Based on the Hungarian play Liliom by Ferenc Molnar, Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Carousel first opened on April 19, 1945. To many, the “poignant story of the faithful Julie and her brutish husband Billy is one of the most powerful books of the musical theatre . . . ,” the score to which “was considered one of [Rodgers and Hammerstein’s] best and finest works.”¹ However, despite Carousel’s initial acclaim, the musical (and others from the same time period) have been recently criticized for upholding, if not reviving, sexist and outdated social mores. When it came to relationships, golden-age musicals (such as Carousel) were notoriously sexually conservative, a belief that was common in Western society at the time (the “American Dream” was the ultimate symbol of freedom and democracy and the family was at the center of it all).² This concept is both upheld and satirized by two versions of Carousel’s “What’s the Use of Wondr’in”: the original and a more recent cover by singer-songwriter Amanda Palmer.

Before I begin, I would like to mention that the problem with analyzing songs from musicals; however, is the lack of traditional “artistic ownership,” if you will. Over the years, many different actresses have performed “What’s the Use of Wond’rin” under the supervision of many different directors. Ergo, there are many different renditions that can convey different nuances while still falling within the context of the musical. Thus, for the purpose of this post, I have decided to consider the version from 1956 film (sung by Shirley Jones).

“What’s the Use of Wondr’in” is an example of golden-age musical theatre and thus contains specific musical features. Jones’ singing is operatic and the instrumentation is melodic and unsyncopated. The lyrics (which is built off the eponymous riff) help drive the plot: during this scene, the protagonist Julie (Jones) confides in her fellow women and advises them of their mutual roles in romantic relationships. Julie, who has recently become pregnant, is concerned about her unemployed husband Billy’s increasingly distant and erratic behaviour (he had even hit her during the previous act).³ However, Julie explains that she is determined to stay with Billy in spite of everything in “What’s the Use of Wondr’in:” Julie laments that romantic relationships are oft difficult and can end in heartbreak. However, the fact that the women love their respective partners is all that matters. Whether these men “are good or bad” is irrelevant: they are products of their environment (the same environment that brought their wives to them). Therefore, due to their love (deserved or otherwise), women will ignore the “rest” and remain devoted. In the scene, Julie appears content and at peace as she comforts her tearful friend. As she faces the crowd of women, she appears to encourage a general sense of optimism. Julie seems to accept her husband’s faults. Even as she looks to the heavens near the end of the song, Jones’ performance cements the underlying message of the song: that the interactions between men and women are up to fate and the things that happen are simply the cost of love.

While Carousel was initially lauded by audiences (despite the fact that critics found the second act slow and strange), the musical has been viewed less favorably in recent years and has even earned the nickname “the wife-beater musical.”⁴ While other films and musicals during the mid-century did address various so-called “gender problems,” Carousel was one of the first films to acknowledge domestic violence in such a frank way. It is worth noting; moreover, the specific nuance that accompanies the term “domestic violence” (an expression coined during the 1970’s): “gender crimes” such as rape and domestic violence were thought to happen sequestered behind closed doors (for example, while everyone knows about Billy’s mistreatment of Julie, they choose to do very little about it).⁵ Domestic violence is also addressed in Carousel’s source material, Liliom, albeit in a more serious way. The other characters in the play, including Julie herself, openly condemn his behaviour.⁶ Liliom is unpleasant and deeply unsympathetic, which can explain the apparent disconnect between the way Billy is presented as a hero and how he acts like a villain.

“Liliom is a lout. He has no redeeming qualities. When he dies, you feel nothing. What humanizes Billy in the musical are the songs, ‘If I Loved You’ and ‘Soliloquy.’ They give him humanity. The bench scene . . . couldn’t come out of [Liliom] . . . When he hits Louise, I think, that’s Liliom up there, not Billy Bigelow. Liliom is hateful. He made me angry.⁷

Thus, while the characters of Liliom and Billy act in a similar way, Rodger and Hammerstein attempt to make Billy an antihero (rather than a villainous protagonist) by showing that he really does love Julie after all. Furthermore, Carousel attempts to portray Billy’s violence as signs of his inward devotion. During the play’s second act, the spirit of Billy slaps his teenaged daughter, Louise, after meeting her for the first time. However, Louise later remarks to her mother that the slap didn’t hurt at all:

Louise: There was a strange man here, Mother… and he hit me, hard. I heard the sound of it, Mother. But it didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt at all. It was just as if he’d kissed my hand.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Louise: But is it possible, Mother, for someone to hit you hard like that, real loud and hard, and not hurt you at all?

Julie: It is possible, dear… for someone to hit you hard, and it not hurt at all . . . ⁸

To many modern audiences, this interaction is problematic, to say the least (of course, it had plenty of critics at the time. Jones herself admitted that plenty of viewers found Julie’s final phrase appalling).⁹ Such controversy is addressed in Amanda Palmer’s modern, feminist cover of “What’s the Use of Wondr’in.”

As a long-time fan of Amanda Palmer, I find it a little bit difficult to categorize her musical tastes into strict genres. Personally, I find her to be a little punky, a little gothy, and usually righteously angry. Her music often showcases a dark sense of humor (for example, this song never fails to cheer me up on a tough day). In her cover of “What’s the Use of Wondr’in” (2009), Palmer does not stray lyrically from the original. As a song interpreter (rather than a classically trained vocalist), Palmer’s voice is significantly rougher than Jones’ while still maintaining an idyllic sweetness. The musical accompaniment is simple and features what I believe to be a keyboard simulating a celesta. However, Palmer veers greatly from Jones’ original in the way she presents the song. While the original is presented within the context of Carousel as a whole, Palmer’s cover is presented within the context of the music video. At the beginning of the music video, shots of blissful mid-century domestication (specifically, plates of quivering, brightly-colored gelatin salads) are interspaced with gritty, dimly-lit shots of weapons and various torture devices. As the video continues, a pastel-clad Palmer and her companion (Casey Long) dance and continue to construct various gooey culinary delights. Their exact relationship is unclear (are they best friends? Sapphic lovers? Family? Regardless, they appear to be extremely close). Again, shots of post-war rapture are interspersed between the dark-side of domestic women-hood: Palmer tearfully reveals a dark bruise on her shoulder while her friend consoles her and violent man yells and attacks an unknown figure (implied to be Palmer’s character) hidden behind a wall. Palmer and her companion return as the videos focus, coiffed and dressed in cocktail dresses (perhaps they are preparing for a dinner party?) Palmer and her companion impishly smiles and faces the camera. The girls hold hands and enter the dining table. The abusive man is prostrate and naked on the table. He has an apple in his mouth and is presented as a luau pig. The women sit down and pick up their cutlery, ending the video comically with implied cannibalism. The submissive lyrics of the song and the subversive images in the video serve as a paradox. As a result, it becomes apparent that the song’s lyrics (and traditionally accepted message is meant to be understood sarcastically and the “piece” (which includes the song and the video) should be classified as satire. While it could be considered a satire of Carousel in its entirety (Palmer’s character seems to be an anti-Julie who decides to eat her husband rather than justify his behavior. However, Palmer’s cover is somewhat removed from its original context and is presented as a stand-alone piece. Thus, while previous knowledge of the source material may be enriching, it should not be necessary. Nevertheless, through costume and recognizable cultural markers (for example, aspic and marshmallow casseroles), Palmer places her version of the song within the context of an oft politically-idealized timeframe, thereby criticizing the concept of traditional womanhood that features so strongly in Carousel and adapting the song for a new generation of angry women.

Endnotes:

1. “Carousel,” The Guide to Musical Theatre, accessed July 9, 2018, http://guidetomusicaltheatre.com/shows_c/carousel.htm; Patricia Álvarez Caldas, “What’s the Use of Wondering if He’s Good or Bad?: Carousel and the Presentation of Domestic Violence in Musicals,” Investigaciones Feminastas 3 (2012): 26, doi: 10.5209/rev_INFE.2012.v3.41133.
2. Ibid., 27.
3. “Carousel.”
4. Ann Sears, quoted in Caldas, 26; Laurie Winer, “Rodger’s and Hammerstein’s Carousel, After #MeToo,” Vulture, last modified April 11, 2018, http://www.vulture.com/2018/04/rodgers-and-hammersteins-carousel-after-metoo.html.
5. Caldas, 27-28.
6. Ibid., 28.
7. Roger Pines, quoted in Todd Rosenberg, “That wasn’t such a nice clambake: Some thoughts on the Carousel problem,” Chicago Reader, last modified May 1, 2015, https://www.chicagoreader.com/Bleader/archives/2015/05/01/that-wasnt-such-a-nice-clambake-some-thoughts-on-the-carousel-problem.
8. Carousel (1956), quoted in Caldas, 30-31.
9. Caldas, 31.

Bibliography:

Caldas, Patricia Álvarez. “What’s the Use of Wondering if He’s Good or Bad?: Carousel and the Presentation of Domestic Violence in Musicals.” Investigaciones Feminastas 3 (2012): 23-32. doi:10.5209/rev_INFE.2012.v3.41133.

“Carousel.” The Guide to Musical Theatre. Accessed August 9, 2018. http://guidetomusicaltheatre.com/shows_c/carousel.htm.

Rosenberg, Todd. “That wasn’t such a nice clambake: Some thoughts on the Carousel problem.” Chicago Reader. Last modified May 1, 2015. https://www.chicagoreader.com/Bleader/archives/2015/05/01/that-wasnt-such-a-nice-clambake-some-thoughts-on-the-carousel-problem.

Winer, Laurie. “Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Carousel, After #MeToo.” Vulture. Last modified April 11, 2018. http://www.vulture.com/2018/04/rodgers-and-hammersteins-carousel-after-metoo.html

Many music historians “consider Mamie Smith to be the first African American woman to record blues vocals.”¹ For someone who has had such a vital role in the history of both musical and African-American history, very little is known about Mamie Smith’s early years. Smith was allegedly born in Cincinnati on May 26, 1883. However, there is no physical paper trail to confirm this. Physical records were seldom kept for African-Americans during this time (due to their perceived lesser status).² However, we do know that when she was around ten years old, she toured with the Four Dancing Mitchells, a white act. From here, she continued to perform: she had danced in J. Homer Tutt and Salem Tutt Whitney’s The Smart Set Company in 1912 before leaving to perform across theatres in Harlem.³ Smith was known for stage presence: singer Victoria Spivey claimed that seeing Smith live inspired her to become a performer herself:

Miss Smith walked on that stage and I could not breathe for a minute. She threw those big sparkling eyes on us with that lovely smile showing those pearly teeth with a diamond the size of one of her teeth. . . Her full voice filled the entire auditorium without the use of mikes like we use today. That was singing the blues! I was really inspired and kept plugging to become a singer.⁴

It was during one of these performances that she met African-American musicians Perry Bradford, who convinced OKeh Record’s Fred Hager to sign her. Bradford argued that African American artists were an “untapped market” who wanted to listen to their own distinctive music. She her first singles, “That Thing Called Love” and Can’t Keep a Good Man Down” were met with controversy: Hager received threats from those who were uncomfortable with OKeh endorsing “black” music (in fact, Smith was almost replaced with Sophie Tucker, one of her “white” contemporaries). However, her next hit, “Crazy Blues” was incredibly popular and had sold over a million copies within the year. Despite racism, Smith was hugely popular. For example, according to the Richmond Palladium Sun-Telegram, Smith sold out in the town of Richmond, which was only 5% African-American. Additionally, it is estimated that nearly 45% of all white males in the town belonged to Whitewater Klan #60, which was Richmond’s local Klu Klux Klan chapter.⁵ Thus, one can assume that either a portion of the white citizens overcame their prejudice in order to appreciate Smith’s music or black citizens from surrounding areas travelled to Richmond in order to see Smith perform. Either way, Smith was able to overcome racism and break the colour barrier found in the recording industry. This was due to a few factors. While Smith is considered the first African-American woman to record “blues music,” it is worth noting that her music was not entirely “blues” but rather “blues-pop.” According to Derrick Stewart-Baxter, she was only moderately talented as a “blues” vocalist and she did not have the vocal inflection of other “blues” singers. It has also been said that her singing style was more at home in a Victorian parlour than at a music hall.⁶  This likely made her accessible to white audiences. In fact, one article from 1920 claims that Mamie Smith was “the only colored girl that sings for records, which we all like to hear.”  However, this caused controversy within the African American community: some claimed that record companies used artists like Smith, who “pandered” to European tastes, to exclude other black artists who were more “authentic.”⁷  Nonetheless, Smith was popular among African-Americans simply because she “ushered in a new era of music divas who presented themselves as upper-class, educated, rich, and demanding of respect.”⁸ In addition to recording songs, she acted in a number of African-American films, such as Paradise in Harlem and Mystery in Swing. She died in 1944 after a long illness.⁹

“That Thing Called Love:”

As previously mentioned, Mamie Smith’s “That Thing Called Love” as one of her first recorded song, which makes it one of the first blues songs recorded by an African-American woman.¹⁰ The song is accompanied by a white band.¹¹ This can be heard in the song, as the musical accompaniment is more “melodic”. Lyrically, the song is similar to other blues songs” which chronicle stories of scorned women mourning lost relationships.

“Crazy Blues:”

While “Crazy Blues” was not Smith’s first song, it was her first major hit. Not only did it sell over a million copies within its first year, Jas Obercht claims that “Crazy Blues” “could be heard coming from the open windows of virtually any black neighborhood in America”^c  While the song’s musical accompaniment (while not as “gloomy” as other blues songs) is slightly melancholy when compared to Smith’s somewhat upbeat inflection. Thematically, the song is about a miserable woman suffering through a tough breakup. All these facets make the song a paradox (perhaps this is what the “crazy” in “Crazy Blues” refers to). While the “Don’t Care Blues” was the first song recorded by an African-American woman, “Crazy Blues” was the song that brought “black” music closer to the mainstream and paved the way for future black musicians.

“You Can Have Him, I Don’t Want Him:”

“You Can Have Him, I Don’t Want Him,” rather than mourning the loss of a relationship (a theme typically found in blues music”), celebrates the newfound freedom that comes with breaking up with a cheating boyfriend. The song is jubilant in nature and the lyrics are relatively cheerful (when it comes to blues music, anyhow). The reason why I have selected this song is that it reminds me of a far more modern song performed by another influential black artist: Beyoncé.

In “Sorry,” Beyoncé (at least, within the song), celebrates the loss of a cheating lover (an unnecessary aside from myself: get it together, Jay-Z). She even describes this loss, like Smith, as a death and everything afterwards as a quasi-religious resurrection. However, what really interests me is that fact that Beyoncé, an artist that literally owes her ability to record to Mamie Smith, recorded a song so thematically similar to written nearly 100 years ago, which shows us how truly timeless Mamie Smith is.

Endnotes:

1. Jill Weiss Simins, “‘Oh Boy! She’s Coming to Richmond’: Mamie Smith Brings the ‘Crazy Blues,’ 1921,” Hoosier State Chronicles, last modified October 6, 2016, https://blog.newspapers.library.in.gov/mamie-smith/.
2. Stevens C. Tracy, Going to Cincinnati: A History of the Blues in the Queen City (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1998), 5-6.
3. Barry Kernfeld, “SMITH, Mamie,” in Harlem Renaissance Lives from the African American National Biography, ed. Henry Louis Gates and Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 458.
4. Victoria Spivey, quoted in Ibid., 459.
5. Simins, 2016.
6. Tracy, 6.
7. Grace Kenny, “Mamie Smith’s ‘Crazy Blues,’” MUS 345: Race Identity, and Representation in American Music, last modified October 10, 2017, https://pages.stolaf.edu/americanmusic/tag/mamie-smith/.
8. Simins, 2016.
9. Kernfeld, 458.
10. Simins, 2016.
11. Kernfeld, 458.
12. Simins, 2016.

Bibliography:

Kenny, Grace. “Mamie Smith’s ‘Crazy Blues.’” MUS 345: Race, Identity, and Representation in American Music. Last Modified October 10, 2017. https://pages.stolaf.edu/americanmusic/tag/mamie-smith/.

Kernfeld, Barry. “SMITH, Mamie.” In Harlem Renaissance Lives from the African American National Biography. Edited by Henry Louis Gates and Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009.

Simins, Weiss Jill. “‘Oh Boy! She’s Coming to Richmond’: Mamie Smith Brings the ‘Crazy Blues,’1921.” Hoosier State Chronicles. Last Modified October 6, 2016. https://blog.newspapers.library.in.gov/mamie-smith/.

Tracy, Steven C. Going to Cincinnati: A History of the Blues in the Queen City. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998.