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Tuesday, November 04, 2014

Mills Brothers remembered in an altered reality

November 4th – It’s interesting to see how time alters the focus of things, softens them in some cases, or brings others into sharp focus. Take racial perceptions as an example.
It was in my lifetime that it was perfectly acceptable to have a sign outside your rental property that read;
No Dogs
No Blacks
No Irish
It was all in order for the Robertson’s Company, on their line of jams and preserves, to have a golliwog as the emblem for their various varieties of jam and marmalade. Indeed, us, as kids, were encouraged to collect these tokens on the jar and send them in to the company in order to receive a metal badge of a golliwog so’s we could wear it with pride as being a member of the Robertson’s Golliwog Club. As things are and in our enlightened state, confirmed by the ever growing stature of the black community over the past forty+ years, those statements and commonplaces are now no longer acceptable in either content or comment. As populations begin to mix and mingle greater understanding and connection makes itself felt and pre-conceptions handed on to children by misguided elders are seen for the stupidity they are. Growing up in a colonial past, the preaching’s accepted as Urban Myths by the children of a supposedly superior civilisation are seen for what they are; the oppression and abuse of a different civilisation who should have expected, if our self-aggrandising statements about Great Britain being the cradle of Democracy, honour and tolerance, much better. These things we can now understand from our position of experience and greater learning but what these understandings also do is alter our perception of things from our past that we re-read anew only to dress them in clothes that just do not fit.
Tricky one this; take it as I write it, you know the cut of my jib by now.
The Mills Brothers were a vocal quartet of the very highest quality who released more than 2,000 recordings (yup, not a typo, that’s as in two thousand recordings) and these 2,000 recordings sold more than 50,000,000 copies world-wide (yup, not a typo, that’s as in fifty million copies) and the selling of these 50,000,000 copies gained the quartet at the very least 36 gold records (yup, not a typo, that’s as in 3 dozen gold discs). They guested with the very best in game, Mr. Crosby, Mr. Powell, Mr. Sinatra, Ms. Fitzgerald, Mr. Miller, Mr. Martin, Ms. Midler, Mr. Como, Mr. Boone, Mr. Benny…the list goes on and on. Anybody who was anybody in the 30’s/40’s/50’s/60’s/70’s big-band music and film scene queued up to gig with them or get them on their show; they really were that good.
Using their hands and voices to recreate the sounds of trumpets, trombones, tuba, bass guitar, all manner of big-band instruments, they layered them on top of succulent and captivating vocal harmonies and what’s more important to an old has-been muso like me, they could do it all live. I got to know their music from my dad who’d come across them during the 39-45 conflict and enjoyed the quartet for their musical and harmonic abilities as well as their frequent work in the movies of the time which, as every service person from that era will testify, was the one of the few highpoints in any break in hostilities; to me they weren’t black musicians they were just brilliant.
Thing is (and here I hand it all over to you and await your verdict on whether I really am the silly old duffer I suspect I am) with all that has happened in the intervening period, all of the changes we've been through and the redefining of racism and it's shifting to become the edges of covert and undercover but still prevalent in some strata of society; when we've all too late discovered institutional racism in so many aspects of public life and services; when the word outranks the deed but doesn't stop it, that what I once saw for what it was, enjoyed for what it was and smiled at what it was, is now tinged with a streak of knowledge and, like looking at spring blossom and being unable to separate its beauty from the knowledge that the thread of eventual death runs through it, I can’t rediscover that innocence and enjoyment. S’bugger, innit.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14QEoEIvUuk&list=RDn2m8VZBfRYo

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