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Abstract:This essay draws on the authors oral history work in the African
American blues community in Austin, Texas, in order to examine how professional
blues artists there understand and negotiate the concept of authenticity.
More to the point, this essay explores the ways in which the narrators use the
category of authenticity as a way to articulate their own identity. Through a
close textual analysis of the interviews, it demonstrates how race, class, and
lived experience are intimately tied to notions of authenticity in the blues and
locates the ambiguity inherent in the narrators discourse at the center of a
larger cultural struggle for empowerment and recognition in this historically
marginalized community. Two songs by the musicians featured in this essay
follow after the conclusion. Listening to these requires a means of accessing
the audio files through hyperlinks. See Instructions for Multimedia Reading of
the OHR, which follows the Editors Introduction at the front of the journal, for
further explanation on how to access this article online.
The peculiar human desire for authentic objects and experiences, although not
new, appears to be a particularly salient concern today. As rhetorical scholar
Barry Brummett argues in A Rhetoric of Style, our culture is shot through with a
The author would like to thank Kathryn Nasstrom, Martha Norkunas, Joshua Gunn, Barry Brummett, Dana
Cloud, Madeline Maxwell, Jennifer Fuller, Amanda Davis Gatchet, and the blind reviewers for their thought-
ful advice and generosity. The interviews conducted for this essay are part of the Project in Interpreting the
Texas Past, which is made possible by the Intellectual Entrepreneurship Consortium at the University of Texas
at Austin.
doi:10.1093/ohr/ohs091
The Oral History Review 2012, Vol. 39, No. 2, pp. 207229
The Author 2012. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Oral History Association.
All rights reserved. For permissions, please e-mail: journals.permissions@oup.com
208 GATCHET
1 Barry Brummett, A Rhetoric of Style (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2008),31.
2 Geoffrey Hartman, Scars of the Spirit: The Struggle Against Inauthenticity (New York: Palgrave, 2001),98.
3 See Benjamin Filene, Romancing the Folk: Public Memory and American Roots Music (Chapel Hill:
that the earnest quest for some sort of mythical, hermetically sealed, real
black American music, unadulterated by white influences and untarnished by
commercial considerations, continues.6 In light of this, it is important to con-
sider how black blues musicians themselves understand authenticity in relation
to their art, a task for which oral history is uniquely wellsuited.
This essay explores the concept of authenticity through oral histories with
African American professional blues musicians. Drawing on interviews with four key
members of the Austin, Texas, blues community, Iexamine how their constructions
of authenticity reflect a complex discourse on identity that is tied to race, class, and
lived experience. Oral history provides access into this world of professional blues
artists, a world where authenticity in the blues moves far beyond ones technical
proficiency in the idiom. In fact, contrary to what common sense might suggest, for
some narrators authenticity has very little to do with musical ability. To this end, the
essay proceeds as follows. First, Iexamine the historical and cultural roots of East
Austins blues scene, taking care to situate this local scene in the broader context
of the history of the blues in the United States. Next, Ioffer a close textual analysis
of the interview transcripts, focusing on the artists discourse of authenticity and
identity. Finally, Iconclude by considering the ambiguity inherent in the narrators
discourse, especially in relation to the changes that have occurred in Austins blues
scene as a result of desegregation. As Iwill show, the artists definitions of authen-
ticity can be understood as part of a larger cultural struggle for empowerment and
recognition in this historically marginalized community.
6 Brian Ward, Just My Soul Responding: Rhythm and Blues, Black Consciousness, and Race Relations
9 George Lipsitz, Time Passages: Collective Memory and American Popular Culture (Minneapolis: University
University of Chicago Press, 1984), 4; Adam Gussow, Seems Like Murder Here: Southern Violence and the
Blues Tradition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002),94.
12 Clyde Woods, Development Arrested: The Blues and Plantation Power in the Mississippi Delta (London:
Govenar, Texas Blues: The Rise of a Contemporary Sound (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2008);
and Bill Minutaglio, In Search of the Blues: AJourney to the Soul of Black Texas (Austin: University of Texas
Press, 2010).
18 Kenneth Burke, A Grammar of Motives (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1945), 5961.
212 GATCHET
now the site of Interstate Highway 35. It was segregated here hard, recalls
East Austin blues artist Donald Duck Jennings.19 Within this segregated com-
munity, however, blacks created spaces where they could enjoy music and forge
strong social ties. By the 1950s, a vibrant blues scene had developed there,
based around popular black-owned clubs. Decades before Austin christened
itself the Live Music Capital of the World, the city held a small yet promin-
ent place on the national blues scene by virtue of its location on the Chitlin
Circuit, a loose collection of venues throughout the country where touring
black performers could play for enthusiastic black audiences. As historian Allen
O.Olsen argues, Austins unique reputation on the Chitlin Circuit was fortified
by the success of similar black clubs in San Antonio, where artists were con-
tinuing an age-old tradition of bringing fresh musical ideas into black neighbor-
hoods and helping to create the kind of communal events that brought people
Fig. 1 Victory Grill Mural, 2010. The mural features the visages of individuals who
were once mainstays of the East Austin blues scene: (left to right) Roosevelt Grey
Ghost Williams, Victory Grill founder Johnny Holmes, and Lavelle White. (Photograph
by Roger Gatchet.)
19 Donald Duck Jennings, interview by Roger Gatchet, February 16, 2008, Project in Interpreting the
20 Allen O.Olsen, The Post-World War II Chitlin Circuit in San Antonio and the Long-Term Effects of
25 Barry Shank, Dissonant Identities: The RocknRoll Scene in Austin, Texas (Middletown, CT: Wesleyan
as a quality that one can only access through a combination of racial and
classidentification, in addition to the lived experiences that are common to
those identity categories. Some of the artists privilege one category over the
other, while others emphasize the interconnections between them. In each case,
the narrators effort to work through the meaning of authenticity in the blues is
deeply rooted to their own experiences and identities as black musicians.
Several narrators talked about authenticity by evoking a black/white racial
binary, not an uncommon way of understanding blues history and performance
considering the genres complex racial politics. For the narrators who do this,
authenticity is connected to race when they evoke their racial identity and the
history of the black experience in the United States in such a way that blackness
becomes a principal signifier of blues authenticity. From this perspective, some
white performers are described as inauthentic, despite their talent or ability to
play and sing the blues, while others are praised for approaching an authentic
presentation (but never quite achievingit).
The narrator who most clearly suggested that authenticity is underwritten
by what amounts to racial essentialism was Henry Bluesboy Hubbard, referred
to by many in the Austin music community simply as Bluesboy. Hubbard was
born in La Grange, Texas, in early 1934, and from his childhood to the present
day, music has remained a central part of his life. Atalented pianist and guitar-
ist, Hubbard was first inspired to learn piano at the age of eight when he heard
a song from child star Frankie Sugar Chile Robinson on the radio. He would
go on to teach himself guitar by imitating AM radio broadcasts of the legend-
ary blues guitarist T-Bone Walker, and he was later tutored by fellow Victory
Grill mainstay T.D. Bell, another prominent bandleader in the East Austin blues
scene.28 Hubbard moved to Austin in 1955 at the age of 21, where he served in
the Air Force as a jet mechanic while stationed at Bergstrom Air Force Base (now
the site of Austins commercial airport) until 1958. During this time, he started
to play blues professionally as the bandleader for Bluesboy Hubbard and the
Jets in both East and WestAustin.
During one interview, Hubbard discussed his friend and one-time student,
Bill Campbell. Hes a guy that Itaught to play the blues, Hubbard said, and out
of all the white guys that Ive taught to play blues guitar, Bill has to be the pur-
est. He sounds just like a black guy when he plays blues. Sounds just like a black
person, you wouldnt know it that thats a white guy on guitar. Hubbard was
at one time a popular teacher for aspiring white blues players; Austin blues club
owner Clifford Antone, singer Angela Strehli, and Grammy-nominated guitarist/
singer/producer Johnny Winter all took private lessons from him. Hubbard also
mentioned Mickey Bennett, another white student. I taught him to play bass,
guitar, piano, organ, and he was real good at it, Hubbard said. He could play
black stuff realand you know, sound pretty black.29
Fascinated by Hubbards remarks, particularly his references to a pure
and real black sound that suggest an essential, racial benchmark for measur-
ing blues authenticity, Iasked if he felt there were any differences between the
blues performances of white and black players. Black guys has more soul, more
feeling, when they play, he responded, and white guys dont automatically
have that. Its sort of like they have to learn to put that in there. And all white
guys dont do too good at learning it, you know. Hubbard evokes a black/white
binary that demarcates authenticity along racial lines. White players seem to
fall short of achieving authenticity because they have to learn how to play the
blues. By contrast, an innate, authentic feeling for the blues is natural for black
musicians. He elaborated:
If a white guys playing a guitar and a black guys playing, and they can
be in a room, and you say, Hubbard, this guys going to run some notes,
29 Hubbard, interview.
Discourse of Authenticity and Identity 217
and this guy going to run them, now you tell me which one is white and
which one is black. And Ican pretty much tell you, you know. Its just that
much difference. Doing the blues, theyre going to be both doing blues.
And Ican pretty much tell you thats a white guy, man. Thats a black guy.
Because its that much different. White guys adjust to what comes natural.
And most white guys, country and western comes natural. Ablack guy
dont want to adjust to country and western, because it dont come natu-
ral. They have to learn country and western. But when it comes to blues,
a black man pick up a guitar, hes going to play the blues. If he dont do
nothing else, hes going to play the blues. Because thats our heritage. We
come from Africa, our ancestry. So, Idont know what does it, but thats
the way it is.30
MR: Id say it helps a lot [laughs]. Mostly, ninety percent. But if you have
it in your heart
30 Hubbard, interview.
218 GATCHET
RG: Whathelps?
MR: Just being black. That helpsthats almost automatic. But if you have
it in your heart, and you really love that, Ithink people can tell it. They might
say, Man, hes playing that blues really good. But, you could tell he might
be from Spain or somewhere, but he goes, Man! Wow! You see what Im
saying? So you can play blues. Like yourself, we played and had so much fun
together with your harmonica, you be playing it, and we forget theyre up
there because were having so much fun. Its the same spirit of itall.
But sure you, being black, thats what happens to you. Its just there. Its
nothing you can do about it [laughs]. And like me, it took a long time to find
out [that it was his calling to play the blues], but Ifinally did. And so Ijust
realized, hey, this is normal for me. . . .So, to your question, sure it helps, but
if you really love it, you can get right to the core of it. And by just the fact
that you love it, that means youre going to grab something. And when youre
playing that blues, improvisational thing, thats when it comes out. Just as in
jazz, or gospel, or whatever. Its just like that. So you have to love it first, then
if you love it, youre going to learn. And then by learning the spirit of it all,
Discourse of Authenticity and Identity 219
youll get your own little notch in it, and thats whats really important right
there. And thats making a statement bold, right there, if you can just do that.
And if youre black, most people expect you to do that anyway.31
Robinson, like his mentor Hubbard, also believes that nonblacks can play the
blues (he even kindly mentions an evening when Iaccompanied him playing
harmonica at an improvised blues jam organized by the Austin Blues Society
in 2008). If the artist can convey a certain love for the genre through the
notes she/he plays, then for Robinson the artist can be a successful blues
musician. That said, he observed that black people have an automatic talent
for blues and that blackness helps a lot to be a real blues player. Robinson
further noted that there is a social expectation that blacks play blues. With
blackness positioned here as a central component (ninety percent) of real
blues, the music again becomes an important but secondary feature of blues
authenticity.
James Kuykendall, an established blues artist who continues to run in the
same musical circles as Hubbard and Robinson, was born in 1949 in Eagle Lake,
Texas, but was raised in Austin. Kuykendall was drawn to the guitar by watching
his father play the instrument, and he built his first guitar by hand.32 He played
with East side soul-blues band Lee & the Capris in the 1960s before joining
Hubbards band the Jets as their bass player. Toward the end of our interview,
Iasked Kuykendall to define the blues. He explained
And you really cant play the blues unless you done had it hard. You can
play it, but you dont really have it in you until you done really had it hard.
And Ihad it hard. So Igot the blues in me. At times Ididnt have enough
to eat. At times Ididnt have clothes to wear, shoes to wear, Ihad holes in
my shoes. And thats seeing it as hard. But now, its a few peoples can play
the blues and play them better than me, and they aint never had a hard
time in their life [laughs].33
31 Matthew Robinson, interview by Roger Gatchet, June 1, 2009, Project in Interpreting the Texas Past:
storys teller; the narrative of a young aspiring musician who fashions single-string diddley bows or cigar box
guitars with broom sticks is a common trope in the biographies of blues guitarists. See, for example, Robert
Gordon, Cant Be Satisfied: The Life and Times of Muddy Waters (Boston: Little, Brown, 2002), 73; Govenar,
Texas Blues,67.
33 James Kuykendall, interview by Roger Gatchet, August 14, 2010, Project in Interpreting the Texas Past:
defining markers for playing real blues. Interestingly, Kuykendall allows that
there are some musicians who have not suffered the way he has, yet they can
still play the blues better than he does. However, he also makes the subtle yet
important distinction between playing the blues and having the blues in you,
which suggests that playing the blues authentically requires more than technical
proficiency in the genre. Kuykendall reiterated this point when he listed several
of the veteran black blues artists he trained with as he struggled to learn his
craft, including one prominent musician (W. C.Clark) who is considered the
godfather of Austin blues: Major Burkes, T.D. Bell, W.C. Clark, pretty much
everybody that played on the East side Iplayed with. Time or another, here or
there, Iplayed with them. . . .Ive got some antique in me that Ican use. Ive
been around all these guys, and most of them is about dead now.34 Only those
who have some antique in themwho have lived a hard blues life and played
under the tutelage of elder blues veterans whose own authenticity is never
questioned, as is the case with the three men Kuykendall identifiesdeserve
the privilege of being considered real bluesartists.
Seeking clarification, Iasked Kuykendall if he felt the music played by musi-
cians who have never lived through hard times was still the blues in his mind.
Nooo, hereplied,
JK: But theyre playing the blues, and theyre playing it good. And they
got it going on with it, but its that they learned to pull it out like that.
Idont know how theyre doing it, but
RG: Are they faking it, or is it still the real thing, in youropinion?
JK: Theyre faking it. Its not the real thing. Its not the real thing. Theyre
faking it, but they can make it sound so good. But its not, its not what
Iinterpret as being the blues.35
Noticing this interesting tension between having a good blues sound that could
still be construed as fake, Iasked Kuykendall, So theres more than just play-
ing the notes right, is that what youre saying? He responded, Yeah. Well, its,
you can play it, you can play it, but you cant never write it and have it going
on.36 Real blues, for Kuykendall,
is hard. Something happens to you that you really didnt like. Something
happened to you that wasnt good for you. Thats the blues. Something
that you had a hard time doing. Something that brought tears to your
eyes. Thats blues. Your wife left you, she done you wrong, left you for
34 Kuykendall, interview.
35 Kuykendall, interview.
36 Kuykendall, interview.
Discourse of Authenticity and Identity 221
your next friend. The man come and took your car from you. Or repos-
sessed your house, or you lost your job, or you didnt get enough to drink
at the club [laughs]. Whatever, thats the blues.37
Ill put it this way: if you dont have a feel for it, you cant play it. You have
to really, really have a good feel for it. Its hard to do. . . .Theres different
types of blues now. You got country blues, or hip hop blues, or different
kinds of blues. Now the authentic blues, its, thats hard to do. Imean,
John Lee Hooker stuff, back in them days, Robert Johnson, all them cats
like that. Thats the authentic blues. Unless you try to live that, you really
cant hit it just right, you know? Somebody that really knows can tell the
difference. But if you can play, you can play. Thats the bottom line, if you
can play you can play it. But you have to really study it to really, to do it
the right way. They have so many people, different blues songs played so
many different ways. Stormy Monday, Iheard about a hundred versions
of it. . . .Theyre doing it their way, instead of the authentic way. Theyre
doing it their way.38
37 Kuykendall, interview.
38 Charles Shaw, interview by Roger Gatchet, September 30, 2010, Project in Interpreting the Texas Past:
African American Texans Oral History Project, Austin, TX (original emphasis).
222 GATCHET
Shaw associates authenticity with having a feel for it, a particularly interesting
connection that points to a kind of ineffable, affective substance that under-
writes blues authenticity. Robinson similarly emphasized the affective dimension
of blues music when he told me that, the blues is the blues. Its a feeling.39 Such
references to feeling reflect the embodied nature of authentic blues musical
expression and the powerful hold it can take on both listeners and performers.
Of course, this is also true of music more generally. As communication scholar
David L.Palmer has argued, music operates as a mode of communication that
evokes affect in an acutely distinct manner, operating rhetorically by inviting
insight into the nature of shared passions and values.40 Ethnomusicologist
Aaron A.Fox, who wrote an insightful rumination on musical feeling in his eth-
nography of country musicians in rural Texas, reminds us, if you have to ask
what feeling means, youll never know, and thats the point. Feeling is an
inchoate quality of authenticity.41 One either has feeling or does not; there is
no middle ground, and when this feeling exists, it is palpable. For example,
Kuykendall described an evening when Texas blues legend Freddie King sat in
with his band, noting, its funny how you can feel the power from this man.
When he starts, you could feel something around you. . . .And when he plays
you can feel it inside you, man. Just being close to him, you know?. . .You
could feel electricity moving around.42 All of the bluesmen Ispoke with seemed
to acknowledge the power of affect, although they often struggled with finding
the words to describe it at any lengththus demonstrating, again, the ineffabil-
ity of musical affect and its centrality to blues authenticity.
What gives someone a feeling for the blues? Shaws answer is that
unless you try to live that, you really cant hit it just right. He refers to the
hard years in which canonical artists like John Lee Hooker and Robert Johnson
were recording, a period of time that encompasses some seven decades, from
the mid-1930s (for Johnson) through the 1990s (for Hooker). Hooker and
Johnson, who are both black, were born in the South and were no strangers
to racial oppression and violence. Johnson is widely believed to have died from
drinking poisoned whiskey, and Hooker, who left the South to find work in the
automobile plants of Detroit, once described his home state of Mississippi as
the worstest state in the world.43 In this sense, Shaws deceptively simple
39 Matthew Robinson, interview by Roger Gatchet, March 25, 2009, Project in Interpreting the Texas Past:
Press, 2004),155.
42 Kuykendall, interview.
43 John Lee Hooker, The Voice of the Blues: Classic Interviews from Living Blues Magazine, eds. Jim ONeal
insistence that one must live that in order to really play the blues is revealed
to be a rather nuanced reference that is rich with meaning. Poverty, Jim Crow,
and racial violenceall things that Johnson and Hooker had to struggle with
during their lifetime become part of a larger experiential foundation for blues
authenticity in East Austin.44
As Shaw and Icontinued discussing the complicated nature of blues
authenticity, Iraised the issue of race and asked if that had anything to do with
authenticity in the blues, in his view. Race? No. No, no, he replied, but he
then added an interestingcaveat:
Blues is the blues regardless. . . .I dont think race has a part to do with it.
No, unh-uh. But Im saying, if youve never picked cotton, and never been
a slave, well you really cant sing too much to that. You cant really put a
lot of feeling into what you want to express about hard times. Youve never
had it. So, its just as simple as that. Hey, if youve never been a slave, you
dont know what its like to be a slave. Iwas never a slave, but you know,
Ihave some slave blood in me [laughs]! Ive seen some, remember some
hard times.45
Conclusion
Authenticity and identity are always politicized in larger cultural contexts, and
given the important connection between the two concepts, it is worth considering
44 For a detailed discussion of life in Mississippi from the standpoint of black blues musicians, see Stephen
A.King, Im Feeling the Blues Right Now: Blues Tourism and the Mississippi Delta (Jackson: University Press
of Mississippi, 2011), 11739.
45 Shaw, interview.
224 GATCHET
tourists who share culturally specific memories of the blues. At the same
time, these mythic narratives serve to racially reinscribe predictable and
stereotypical images of the downtrodden, dispossessed blues subject.46
More recently, King has discovered similar racist constructions at work in tour-
istic narratives throughout the Mississippi Delta, where they are deployed in
order to promote the authenticity of blues festivals and destinations like the
Shack Up Inn, a series of repurposed blues-themed sharecropper shacks where
travelers can stay overnight.47 Although these constructions share a commit-
ment to racial essentialism that is also evident in the discourse of the artists
Iinterviewed, Hubbard, Robinson, Kuykendall, and Shaws use of race notably
lacks the problematic focus on primitiveness and exoticism that defines these
mainstream cultural forms. Instead, their constructions draw on lived experi-
ence to craft an image of an authentic black blues artist that does not traffic
in overt racial stereotypes. This empowering narrative emerges from within a
vernacular community rather than being imposed from the outside, and the art-
ists discourse offers an alternative (and, one might argue, more valid) definition
of blues authenticity that does not privilege black musicians at the expense of
dehumanizingthem.
If authenticity is a complex site of struggle over identity and power, then
the meanings that emerge from that struggle can take many different forms,
even between members of a particular community (e.g., East Austin blues musi-
cians) who have known and worked with each other for decades. As archival
studies scholars Heather MacNeil and Bonnie Mak describe it, authenticity is
a creature of circumstance. What it means to be authentic continues to change,
and the parameters and content of authenticity are always under negotiation.48
Although Hubbard, Robinson, Kuykendall, and Shaw share some similarities
in the way they discuss authenticity, particularly in their consistent focus on
its relationship to identity, the four men are also often contradictory in their
attempts to define it, as evidenced by their conceptual stutterings about its
boundaries. For example, Shaw argued that the blues is the blues regardless
of the racial identity of the musician performing it. Yet moments later, he main-
tained the opposite: But Im saying, if youve never picked cotton, and never
been a slave, well you really cant sing too much to that. In a similar exchange,
Kuykendall asserted that artists who have not struggled with the hard life of an
authentic blues musician are playing the blues, and theyre playing it good.
But theyre also faking it, he said, and playing something thats not what
Iinterpret as being the blues. At one point, Hubbard even referred to one of
his white students, Bill Campbell, as being the purest white blues player he
has heard. He sounds just like a black guy when he plays blues, Hubbard said,
so much so that you wouldnt know it that thats a white guy on guitar. But
Hubbard also claimed that, If a white guys playing a guitar and a black guys
playing. . .I can pretty much tell you thats a white guy, man. Thats a black guy.
Because its that much different.
This unresolved ambiguity inherent in their discourse is fascinating on mul-
tiple levels. First, it is interesting to note that the artists exhibit no cognitive
dissonance due to the conflicting elements in their definitions of authentic-
ity; indeed, they appear quite comfortable with the entirety of their responses.
These conflicting responses emerged as they worked through what authenticity
means in the dialogic context of these particular oral history interviews. That
is, they engaged in dialogue with me on a topic that they have not regularly
discussed with other interviewers. The relative ambiguity of their responses
on authenticity stands in contrast to the clarity of their comments about their
life histories, who they have played with, and how they discovered the blues,
whether delivered to me or to the other interviewers who have spoken with
them.49 Second, the fact that the artists did not produce rote responses to my
inquiries about authenticity suggests that they do not have a larger agenda
to push with regard to authenticity, race, or class, nor were they interested in
putting me, the interviewera white, middle-class, formally educated, blues
harmonica player in his mid-30sin my place. Their willingness to dialogue
openly about authenticity with someone who could never meet their definitions
of the term bespeaks a genuine desire to wrestle with it, to understand not only
what it means but also what its larger implications are for blues performers. And
third, in an integrated blues scene like the one that exists throughout Austin
today, black blues artists enjoy certain tangible benefits, such as the ability to
share their art with larger audiences and the freedom to play in a greater number
of clubs with a wider pool of musicians. It is no surprise, then, that they would
offer praise to nonblack artists who play the blues well (as all four men do). Still,
when probed about whether or not those artists are really authentic, they drew
a line that establishes black musicians as the benchmark of authenticity.
Finally, the artists discourse, and particularly their emphasis on race and
class, implies a concern, albeit an unspoken one, over what their purchase on the
blues is and will continue to be in Austins integrated scene. As the legal barri-
ers that divided East and West Austin started to slowly come down beginning in
49 See, for example, Meyers, Juke Joint Blues; Margaret Moser, Bright Lights, Inner City, Austin
the early 1970s, the segregated East Austin blues scene gradually transitioned
to a larger Austin blues scene that is integrated, both on the bandstand and
in the audience. Theres no blues scene, as far as black blues scene, in Austin
anymore, Shaw told me.50 If this has caused a sense of loss for these musi-
cians, they do not seem to show it, at least not explicitly. Indeed, when Iasked
Jennings, who has played alongside a Japanese guitar player in Hubbards band,
if he feels saddened by the way the East Austin blues scene dissolved when
the city started integrating, he said, You cant want desegregation and then
at the same time be segregated. That dont work. The entire city of Austin is
one big playing field, and you dont have to try to just be confined to one type
[of music or venue]. You can go make money anywhere if you can play, and
it dont matter whether you white or black.51 If these artists have embraced
these changes, as they appear to have done, why then would they lay claim to
an authenticity that is tied so closely to blackness and black experience? One
answer may be that, despite the fact that the blues scene is largely integrated
today, not only in Austin but across the United States, black musicians continue
to experience varying degrees of marginalization. For example, in his analysis
of the cultural functions of blues music festivals, Stephen A.King interviewed
some black musicians who experienced a race-based, inequitable pay system
that compensated white blues musicians more so than their black colleagues,
leading King to argue that, in some ways, segregation prevails in the blues
today.52 Although King is not writing about Austins scene, Hubbard, Robinson,
Kuykendall, and Shaw are no strangers to the milieu he describes (they have
performed in many blues festivals), and by privileging blackness as the center
of blues authenticity they may be attempting to preserve some of the auton-
omy and control they once enjoyed when East Austins blues scene was largely
segregated. This view was most clearly expressed by Shaw, who noted the drop
in the number of black blues players postintegration. Although he is thankful
that the blues is still alive in Austin due to the proliferation of white players
around the city, he also lamented, a lot of people dont want to play it no more.
Black people anyway, for sure. Imean now in Austin; you go South somewhere,
or Chicago, Mississippi, its strong. Austin, its not here as far as the black musi-
cians are concerned. Its not here.53
Moreover, for Shaw, who told me that young blacks in Austin dont give
a heck about the blues and dont know that it comes from slavery times, his
definition of authenticity also functions as a stay against historical amnesia.
Authenticity can work in this way when it is directly yoked to a communitys his-
tory, especially when that history is in danger of being forgotten. For example,
Shaw described the East Austin blues scene as a family that is now scat-
tered, diversified. The Austin black community is all spread out, he said, with
nobody to show you anything, theyre on their own.54 Maintaining a sense
of authenticity that is tied to identity would be especially important in a dis-
persed community that does not remember its own musical heritage, because it
provides a sense of stability and rootedness in an otherwise uncertain, chang-
ing world. And although Shaw stops short of wishing that more young blacks
currently played blues (he notes that many have turned to hip hop because the
pay is better), his very mention of them suggests a sense of loss stemming from
their diminishing role in Austins contemporary blues scenea loss both of the
black history that is tied to the blues, as well as a loss of authenticity in Austins
larger blues community.
Blues music has long been characterized by its oppositional nature as a
counter-hegemonic art, and as growing numbers of white and other nonblack
musicians perform in the blues idiom, authenticity will likely become an increas-
ingly important resource for black blues artists who are negotiating their own
evolving role in the genre. For oral historians, it is important to note that this
negotiation whereby authenticity is constructed does not occur in isolation.
Rather, one of the places where a sense of authenticity can emerge is in the
dynamic dialogic exchanges between interviewers and narrators, an idea that
resonates with philosopher Charles Taylors argument that authenticity requires
a self-definition in dialogue that binds us to others.55 As the struggle over
authenticity continues in vernacular communities, both in the blues and else-
where, oral historians and the narrators who collaborate with them stand poised
to enrich our understanding of this concept that continues to drive our search
for identity and a sense of wholeness in the twenty-firstcentury.
54 Shaw, interview.
55 Charles Taylor, The Ethics of Authenticity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991), 66, 67.
Discourse of Authenticity and Identity 229