American Electronic Music Owes It All to People of Color

The events that have unfolded over the past few weeks in the United States — the death of George Floyd and the nationwide uproar over systemic oppression, police brutality and violence against protesters — has warranted a deeper reflection on the profound role that people of color serve in American culture. Given my lifelong obsession with music and music culture, I wanted to create some space to discuss the influence of BIPOC communities in electronic music and beyond, specifically through the context of the Black Lives Matter movement and the death of George Floyd.

People of color are largely responsible for the cultural pulse of this country, from the creation of jazz, blues, hip-hop, R&B, and electronic dance music, to the infectious throb of our underground club scenes that have served as an escape, not only for those experiencing daily oppression, but for the millions who crave liberation from the structure of daily life. 

A Short History of Electronic Music

Jamaican sound system culture and dub are one of the most profound influences on electronic music today. The scene was led by producers such as King Tubby and Lee “Scratch” Perry, who would remix reggae tracks with equipment such as the Roland Space Echo that produced echo and delay effects. The scene is infamous for creating epic speaker rigs that were the centerpiece of thriving street parties in Kingston. Influenced by Jamaican sound system culture, DJ Kool Herc introduced these bass heavy speaker rigs to the Bronx in the 1970s, which credited him with the start of the New York City hip-hop movement in 1973. His cutting edge technique of playing two of the same copies of a record on two different turntables in alternation led to the creation of breakbeat.

In the early ‘70s, disco began to unveil its glittering face. Disco was a movement primarily led by queer, BIPOC urbanites in New York City who accelerated the popularity of dance and club culture. According to an Icon Collective article, George McCrae’s hit “Rock Your Baby” was one of the very first records to use a drum machine in 1974. Sly and the Family Stone, Donna Summer, Earth, Wind and Fire, Zapp, and other disco acts display the same infectious, early synth and reverb elements that are central to electronic music today.

Disco Demolition Night

It’s worth taking a closer look at disco to examine why some Americans foster a popular resentment of the genre. Disco was a cultural fad and mainstream obsession during the 1970s, so at first glance, it seems that those who turned away from the genre were likely the hipster punks who hung out in the shadows and denounced all things popular. I myself have criticized the mainstream music market for its high turnover rate of formulaic pop music that accrues large profits and lacks substance. Perhaps people were frustrated with disco because they felt it didn’t represent them. To an extent, this may be true. At closer look, though, the anti-disco movement was likely an expression of racism and xenophobia in the United States.

Disco music fell out of fashion almost overnight due to nationwide “anti-disco attacks.” A series of rallies began in the late ‘70s, bearing labels such as “Disco Sucks” and “Death to Disco.” The biggest rally was called “Disco Demolition Night” and took place at Comiskey Park in Chicago, Illinois on July 12, 1979. The event was led by Steve Dahl, a white man described as “a loudmouthed disc jockey” who was fired from his Chicago radio job after it went all-disco. Upwards of 59,000 people showed up in time to see Dahl dressed in a military uniform, driving a jeep across a field and leading people in the chant “disco sucks!” In the center of the field lay thousands of records rigged with dynamite in which Dahl detonated, resulting in an explosion that sent vinyl flying into the sky and leaving a crater in the field. The event became a riot where thousands of fans burned records and vandalized the White Sox stadium. This is just one example of many where disco records were destroyed.

Disco music was and still is today an important and vibrant cultural artifact of Black America. Listeners of any electronic genre owe it to disco for introducing the use of synthesizers and drum machines into the public eye, accelerating the dance and club scene and empowering the voices of BIPOC communities in pop culture. The image of a white man dressed in military gear and encouraging the literal fiery destruction of disco records is disturbing, disrespectful and evidently representative of a darkness far beyond disliking a style of music. Despite my distaste for certain genres, I would never destroy or promote the destruction of someone else’s artistic expression, let alone the musical artifacts of an entire community.

House Music

Standing in the ashes of disco, DJs found other ways to create dance music. House music originated in the underground clubs of Chicago and was, again, led primarily by queer BIPOC communities. The name “house” is thought to be derived from a South Side nightclub, “The Warehouse,” that was known for playing early ‘70s electronic tunes. Reportedly, Chicago club-goers would visit record stores asking for the music played at “The Warehouse,” which was eventually shortened to “house.” Throughout the ‘80s and into the ‘90s, house music became a thriving underground scene led by Black people and other BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ communities looking to create a safe space that would allow them to break away from the pressure of daily life in America.

Techno had similar roots in Detroit in the 1980s, where the genre was largely pioneered by Black DJs and enjoyed in Black and Brown neighborhoods. Dubstep originated in South London, with its roots in dub and sound system culture in Jamaica.

Drawing Parallels

The evolution of electronic music isn’t linear. The genre is a broad and complex unfolding of styles that have grown in and out of each other for decades. The complexities of the genre speak to the testament that a great deal of electronic music originated from oppressed Black and Brown individuals. As with many things stemming from and belonging to BIPOC communities, white American culture has gentrified these musical styles and pushed its creators to the sidelines. Our playlists and festival line-ups are filled with white artists who reap generous profits. Electronic music in the United States has become a very lucrative business, with mainstream acts like Diplo, Tiesto and deadmau5 headlining corporate festivals like Coachella. This isn’t to say that white people and/or other races shouldn’t take part in and contribute to music that intimately stems from other cultures, but rather recognizing that people of color and their profound influence is largely under-valued and forgotten in America’s music scene. In 2014, Chicago DJ Derrick Carter wrote, “Something that started as gay Black/Latino club music is now sold, shuffled and packaged as having very little to do with either.”

The article “Electronic Music Is Black Protest Music” opened my eyes to the appropriation of BIPOC culture combined in gross contradiction with systemic racism and oppression. Whites often discard certain populations as uncivilized, criminal, thug, and alien whilst happily consuming the cultural artifacts of their oppression: their labor, food, and music. It’s as if they, too, (myself included) want to feel something, but can’t reach for their own history because so much of the culture associated with whiteness in America stems from theft and genocide. Whites continue to take, consume, profit and discard. It’s too easy not to notice the consequences of our blind consumption.

This leads into a discussion of the recent killing of George Floyd at the knee of a Minnesota police officer, based on the sole suspicion that the man passed a counterfeit 20 dollar bill. It’s been brought to the public’s attention that Floyd and his murderer, officer Derek Chauvin, were coworkers at a Latin nightclub in Minneapolis, called El Nuevo Rodeo. Floyd, who held many different jobs, occasionally worked as a bouncer during the club’s “urban” music nights. Chauvin apparently worked off-duty at the club for 17 years as a security guard. The club’s previous owner, Maya Santamaría, claimed that she often had to reprimand Chauvin for going “overkill” on nights thrown by Black promoters. She also mentioned that occasionally, he would mace the entire crowd.

Club/Rave Culture

It’s no surprise that Chauvin’s racist outbreaks played out in the clubs that Black and Brown communities have long designated as safe spaces for communion and freedom of artistic and self expression. It’s also no surprise that rave music stemmed from the cultures that have long faced oppression in this country — whose bodies were codified to behave a certain way so as not to be persecuted, who sought out underground spaces in which to liberate themselves from this codification.

I am white, so I can understand this liberation only to a certain extent. However, I spent my youth congregating on the dance floors of raves and DJing at an alternative radio station and in clubs. Many of us white kids turned to rave culture because of the profound ethos of acceptance that exists in these spaces. Rave culture created a space for humans to express their queer, weirdo, artistic, curious and often beaten down selves. I remember going to my first festival and falling madly in love with the strange underground scene that appeared to denounce all things basic and exclusionary. However, what I didn’t know at the time was where this came from and who it belonged to. I see, now, how white electronic music is in the United States. I see how we experience this original form of BIPOC protest, and love it, but don’t give enough credit to its roots.

Ignoring history is only perpetuating systems of violence that continue to take Black and Brown lives in America while holding on to their cultural artifacts. Just as with music, BIPOC’s profound role in the building and maintaining of this country is grossly undervalued and ignored in our history books, our conversations, and especially in our mainstream political rhetoric. It’s due time America starts re-writing history from the ground up by giving Black, Brown and Indigenous communities the agency to tell their own stories, restructure white America’s perceptions of the past, and uphold their right to shape their own futures.

What I’m Listening To

Here are some BIPOC artists I’m currently enjoying:

  • Space Afrika: Manchester duo made up of Joshua Inyang and Joshua Reed. They create what I would describe as ethereal techno. Pitchfork called their music “dubwise ambient experimentation.” All proceeds from the sale of their newest album, “hybtwibt” will go to a variety of nonprofits, including the Black Lives Matter Global Network, NAACP and more.
  • Flowdan: This London-based artist helped pioneer UK Grime. He became widely known in the underground electronic music in America for his hit “Horror Show Style.” That song has been remixed by dubstep and bass producers probably a million times. I am in love with his newest album, “The Red Pill.”
  • Sampa the Great: Born Sampa Tembo, this Zambian rapper and songwriter, now based in Australia, is among the greatest of female rappers. It’s hard to recommend a song or album because they’re all fantastic. I advise watching her music videos for “Energy” and “Final Form.” Both are powerful anthems of black feminism.
  • Drakeo the Ruler: I recently learned about this LA-based rapper through the timely release of his album, “Thank You For Using GTL.” Drakeo, aka Darrell Caldwell, is sitting in Men’s Central Jail for a murder he was acquitted of in 2019. He is still incarcerated to this day, despite that he has yet to be convicted of any crime. His newest album was recorded entirely over GTL, the California telecom service that provides phone lines to jails and prisons. GTL has been widely criticized for its exorbitant rates and resulting extortion of families’ access to inmates. I highly recommend reading Pitchfork’s album review, which reads, “That new material is a stunning depiction of what it means to be a gangsta rapper in 2020: constantly surveilled, presumed guilty until proven innocent, pressure applied from all sides.” His album comes in seemingly perfect timing, as America rises up against police brutality and systematic racism.
  • Joker: If you’re into underground electronic music, namely dubstep and/or bass, you probably know who Joker is. He’s a Bristol-based pioneer of dubstep, though I feel limiting in calling his music dubstep because it truly spans and melds together a wide variety of genres. He is one of my all time favorite producers. Song recommendation: Marching Orders with grime rapper Footsie.

Photo Credit: The University of West Indies Institute of Caribbean Studies

For more articles about music, visit this page.