What Happened to Black Music?
An anonymous guest columnist weighs in on the lost art of curation—and the leaders who made the difference
Why doesn't Black music seem to cross over with the same consistency, influence and impact that it once did?
Some blame the quality of the music, aging superstars or changing audiences.
But perhaps the problem isn't the music.
Perhaps the industry has lost too many of the extraordinary people who knew how to recognize greatness, develop it and bring it to the world.
Throughout history, Black music has been shaped by remarkable creative visionaries.
Think about Motown. Stax. Philadelphia International. Uptown. Bad Boy. Death Row. Aftermath. Def Jam. Murder Inc. LaFace. So So Def. Cash Money. Quality Control. And so many others.
Berry Gordy. Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff. L.A. Reid and Babyface. Andre Harrell. Jheryl Busby. Russell Simmons. Sean Combs. Irv Gotti. Jermaine Dupri. Dr. Dre. Coach K and P. Slim and Birdman. Top Dawg and the TDE team.
These weren't simply record executives or producers. They were architects of Black culture, with extraordinary instincts, impeccable taste, deep musical knowledge and the ability to recognize something special before the rest of the world could hear it.
They understood the music because they came from the music.
You cannot fully understand Black music without understanding struggle: the determination, despite relentless pain and injustice, to be heard in a world that too often refuses to listen.
At the foundation of so much American popular music is the blues.
The blues is the sound of heartbreak, injustice, survival, hope and overcoming. Its influence runs through rhythm & blues, soul, rock & roll and hip-hop, and it will infuse whatever’s next.
Data can identify momentum and trends, but it cannot always recognize greatness in an artist who hasn't yet made a great record.
That's the art of A&R.
The great music people were obsessed with their craft. Some understood music theory. Others couldn't read a note.
But they had ears. They had feel. They had soul, magnetism and relationships. They understood the difference between what was popular and what could become timeless. That kind of musical intelligence doesn't come from a dashboard.
The next great music visionary may not have the right résumé, connections, or corporate polish. But they may possess an extraordinary ear, an original vision, and instincts that can't be taught.
A brilliant business executive isn't necessarily a brilliant A&R executive. These are different gifts, and great record companies need both. The art of leadership is knowing the difference—and putting the right people in the right roles.
Jimmy Iovine backed Dr. Dre.
Clive Davis backed Gamble and Huff at Philadelphia International, Sean Combs at Bad Boy and Babyface and L.A. Reid at LaFace.
Doug Morris backed Cash Money, giving its founders the resources and freedom to build one of the most influential labels in modern music.
The genius was in recognizing their vision, providing the resources and knowing when to get out of the way.
A great chairman doesn't have to be the smartest music person in the room. A great chairman has to know how to find that person—and have the confidence to back them.
Instinct is a delicate flower. It should be nurtured, not trampled.
The question is, how will the industry identify the next Berry Gordy? The next Andre Harrell? The next Dr. Dre?
The next great music visionary may not have the right résumé, connections, or corporate polish. But they may possess an extraordinary ear, an original vision, and instincts that can't be taught.
Give them the opportunity to discover artists, assemble teams, develop their own sounds, and build creative institutions. Teach them financial literacy. Hold them accountable. But give them creative freedom and the backing to succeed. Because the next great musical movement probably won't arrive with a PowerPoint presentation proving its commercial potential.
It may emerge from a make-do bedroom studio, a basement, a neighborhood studio, a church, a school or a small club. And if the parents hate it, it's probably IT!
So, what happened to Black music?
Perhaps the better question is: What happened to the people and institutions that had the instincts, the know-how and, most importantly, the backing to discover, develop and promote groundbreaking artists?
Black music is exactly where it's always been. In the Black community.
The talent hasn't disappeared. Neither have the stories, the struggle, the ambition or the creativity. What's missing may be the willingness to invest in extraordinary people before their genius becomes obvious to everyone else.
The next great chapter of Black music won't be written by the people who are best at explaining yesterday's success. It will be written by the people who can identify tomorrow's stars—and the leaders who have the wisdom and courage to back them.
And above all, the people who have taste.