ENTER THE NEGRO

Taranaki Daily News, 27 September 1930, Page 13 (Supplement)

ENTER THE NEGRO

INFLUENCE ON THE ARTS

(By

“Scriblèrus.”)

A band of nigger minstrels crooning plaintive harmonies when still evening has descended on the cotton fields —that was the beginning of the negro dominance of popular art. The cult spread to England and itinerant singers with blackened faces and vividly striped trousers appeared all along the seafront. They passed, and the war came along.

Civilisation was very excited ami there was not sufficient vitality in Viennese music and dances. The voluptuous melodies of the South Seas and the frenzied jazzing of the American negroes pandered to the needs of the post-war generation. But it was not the best side of the negro social spirit that was seized on. The latent barbarism in the jazz music appealed to the youth which had- been stirred by the cruelty and savagery of the War. An appeal to the emotions was what was desired. Intellectual music was relegated to the older people. Music, dancing, sculpture and poetry all felt the primitive influence of Africa, the East, and particularly the American negroes.

Of jazz music enough has been said. There are indications of leanings, towards a saner and more modified expression. Negro dances, the names of which do not matter, some being rather unsavoury, have held sway for about ten years. In sculpture there are definite traces of negro ideas in Epstein s “Dav,” the enigmatic monster on the portals of the Underground House in London. There is no need to disparage such efforts, for there is no gainsaying the fact that in sculpture at least'the primitive ideas have in many cases resulted in works of tremendous force.

A review of the negro poetry also reveals the presence of a new and powerful element in English versification. For instance there is the wistful note in the works of Claude McKay, a-full-blooded negro who recently published a book of verse, “Spring in New Hampshire.” There is fear for the crisis through which the young American negro is passing. The primitive savage, released from bondage and swamped by European civilisation, is undergoinrr a period of relentless trial. It is the'same with native people the world over and,’ with a few modifications, the Maori people in lyew Zealand are being put through the mill in a very similar way to the American negro: But the Maori is certainly having a better chance, for the white man had to establish his culture in a land occupied by the Maori, whereas tne negro'was settled in America after the whites. .The spirit of the negro is evident, in the verses of McKay. It is powerful but it does not offend our sensibilities. McKay draws an exotic picture, with the background of a stilly southern night where applauding youths and girls laughed “And watched her perfect, half-elothcd body sway; Her voice vVas like the sound of blended flutes . , ■ ' 1 - Blown bv black players upon a picnic day/ # # # * “To me she seemed a proudly s,waving palm v Grown lovelier for passing through a storm. Upon her swarthy neck, black shiny curls Profusely fell; and, tossing coins in .■/ i.praise,. ! Thp.,.wilie-fi,ushed, bold-eyed boys and even the girls, Devoured her with eager, passionate gaze; • But, looking at her falsely-smiling face. . I knew herself was not in that strange place.” iln New Zealand it is hard to appreciate to the full the bitterness and agony of the colour bar. The. pathos is nowhere more poignant than in these lines by McKay:— I “Day- dawned, and soon the mixed crowds came to view The ghWly 'body swaying in the sun: The women thronged to look, but never a one Showed sorrow-.in her eyes of steely blue; And little lads, lynchers that were to -be, J . . Daaiced round the dreadful thing in fiendish glee.” But the negro influence has n'ot waned; rather is it on the increase. It is a different thing, however, i cleaner, more beautiful spell. Perhaps the best known manifestation is a deep, resonant bass voice singing simple negro ditties. Who has not heard Paul Robeson sing “Ole Man River” or “Carry .Me Back to Ohl Virginny?” True, it will probably only have emerged from a gramophone, but there will be little difference from the real thing. It was the beginning, for Paul is versatile. One might be pardoned for likening him to old Leonardo da Vinci. They were both good “all-rounders.” ■' In the book his wife wrote of him we learn of his ideals. It was not long after the biography appeared that one of them was realised. “If some day I can play Othello as Shakespeare wrote it, bring to the stage the nobility, sympathy and understanding Shakespeare put into the play, I will make the audience know that he was not just a dark, foreign brute of three hundred years ago in far-off Venice, who murdered a beautiful, innocent white girl, but that hc z was a fine, noble, tragic, human figure ruined by the very human weakness of jealousy.” In the English summer season of this year Paul Robeson played Othello at the Savoy and it was his triumph. With the exceptions of Miss Sybil 'Thorndike as Emilia and Miss Peggy Ashcroft as Desdemona, the cast was deplorable and the lighting worse. Still it did tot prevent Paul from becoming an impassioned Othello. It was he who pulled the performance through the doldrums and elevated it to the position with the season s triumphs. The great rugged figure, one of the best American athletes in its day. dominated the dimmed stage. The deep bass voice brought home to the audience the intense pathos in the character of the Moor —a whisper and it came clear to the wings, a passionate scream that ■was like the cry of his race. It is probable that Paul Robeson is doing more for his people than anyone since the emancipation of the. slaves. He can give them self-respect in their own eyes and the esteem of other nations. Paul is very human. They say he is lazy. He has felt the force of the colour bar and yet he has won a | place in the front.