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This new multiauthor volume will examine The Wizard of Oz and its surrounding culture, centering on three areas of study: early adaptations of Baum’s novels, insights into the MGM film, and the legacy of The Wizard of Oz on the popular stage. Although the articles will devote some attention to the genesis of the musical and the biographical profiles of the creative team, the book will prioritize critical and analytical readings. Authors will primarily illuminate the reasons why The Wizard of Oz has become iconic in the history of the movie musical, acknowledging the great lengths to which MGM went in making it an exceptional project, and why it continues to hold so much appeal in the twenty-first century. The development of the score will receive particularly close attention, filling an important gap in the literature and addressing the fact that the songs are key to the movie’s popularity. Two central chapters will address the music in the MGM film, considering the interaction between the songs and the underscore, and also reflecting on the enduring appeal of the musical numbers. But the significance of the music in early stage productions and later reinterpretations will also be given careful attention: several of the authors will question how the music is employed alongside other components—on stage and screen—and to what effect. Ultimately, the book will incorporate a variety of scholarly approaches, to present an authoritative and engaging understanding of one of the most significant movie musicals that will appeal to film lovers and academics alike.

Alan Jay Lerner was the lyricist of some of the most beloved musicals of all time, including My Fair Lady, Gigi, Brigadoon, and Camelot. Yet much of his work is less well known and his career has been overlooked in the scholarly literature on musicals. This book helps to bridge the gap by providing new insights into his working life through his professional correspondence with his colleagues and friends. The collection contains letters to Julie Andrews, Rex Harrison, Frederick Loewe, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Leonard Bernstein, among many others. It also provides an extensive commentary outlining his early years and putting his career into context.

Familiar entertainment icons, stories, and signs from the 1950s and 1960s continue to resonate within contemporary American society and culture. Both the political Left and Right invoke the events and memories of those decades, celebrating or condemning the competing social forces embodied in and unleashed during those years. In recent decades, the entertainment industry has capitalized on this trend with films and television shows that often look back on the 1950s and 1960s with a mixture of nostalgia and criticism.

This book looks at the musical, from The Beggar's Opera to Wicked. Looking at Star Comic and Sweetheart Heroine; the war between musical comedy and operetta; the rise of the sexy story in the 1920s; the wedding of ballet and hoofing in the 1930s; Oklahoma! and Carousel “musical plays” of the 1940s; Novelty Star in the 1950s, and other developments, this book looks at George Gershwin to Ethel Merman to Jerome Robbins to the director-choreographer and the offbeat contemporary show: Porgy and Bess, Gypsy, Fiddler on the Roof, Chicago, A Chorus Line, Grand Hotel, Grey Gardens, and Rent. The book emphasizes not only the writing of musicals but the performing of them. Considering the development of dance, the book follows it from zany hoofing in the nineteenth century through the tap “combinations” of the 1920s and the injection of ballet and modern dance in the 1930s and 1940s. Fred Astaire, George Balanchine, Agnes de Mille, Michael Kidd, Bob Fosse, and Gwen Verdon: theirs was a time when dance seemed as crucial as music by Richard Rodgers or lyrics by Betty Comden and Adolph Green. The book examines also the changing role of the star, noting how such early-twentieth-century headliners as Fred Stone seldom varied their portrayals, whether as the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz or Little Red Ridinghood's fatherly guardian in The Stepping Stones.

Before ‘Fred and Ginger’, there was ‘Fred and Adele’, a show business partnership and a cultural sensation like no other. It is difficult in our ‘celebrity’-sated era to comprehend what a genuine phenomenon the Astaires were. At the height of their success in the mid-1920s the siblings were seasoned transatlantic commuters, ambassadors of an art form they had helped to revolutionize, adored by audiences, feted by royalty, and courted socially by the elite in just about every field of endeavour. They seemed to define the Jazz Age. They were Gershwin’s music in motion; a fascinating pair who wove fascinating rhythms in song and dance. The story of Fred and Adele Astaire is an extraordinary one and is told here in depth and within its historical and theatrical context. It is not merely the first part of Fred’s long and illustrious career; it holds a significance and a fascination of its own, as well as having implications for Astaire’s subsequent career, which have not been fully appreciated. The story of the Astaires is also the story of an era. Born at the close of the nineteenth century, they, in effect, grew up together with the new century. Manifestly children of their time, they glamorously embodied the interwar style they had partly originated. At the same time, their appeal as performers was based largely on their apparent defiance of the darker aspects of the interwar psyche. They were an affirmation of life and hope in the midst of a prevalent crisis of faith and identity.

Our day-to-day musical enjoyment seems so simple, so easy, so automatic. Songs instantly emanate instantaneously and almost magically from our computers and phones. The tools for playing and making music, such as records and guitars, wait for us in stores, ready for purchase and use. And when we’re done with all this stuff, we can kick it to the curb, where it disappears effortlessly and without a trace. These casual engagements often conceal the complex infrastructures that make our musical cultures possible.

Austin City Limits comprises nearly four decades of changes in civic identity, media, and in potential ways people experience musical meaning. This book acts as a prism pulling together the singular achievements of the PBS television show, and refracting them in ways that bear on popular media culture. Beginning with Willie Nelson’s 1975 pilot broadcast, Austin City Limits sustained national relevance over decades vis-à-vis the local scene and American popular music more broadly, both in constant flux. Austin City Limits spans dramatic shifts in the nature of television and expansion of digital media: once a circumscribed weekly broadcast, it is now a program available for streaming, a presence on Twitter and other social networks, and a “brand” or concept that conveys quality music. It simultaneously exists as a major music festival and a state-of-the-art venue. Thus Austin City Limits draws private and public enterprises—civic, cultural, business, and media organizations—into relationship with audiences in new twenty-first-century ways. The show’s history corresponds to the rise of Austin as “Live Music Capital of the World”; throughout that rise, the show fed the city’s claim to musical vitality just as the city grounded the show’s reputation for authenticity. Furthermore, Austin City Limits bears on the evolution of US public television, along with the broader dilution of genre as a concept. From regional showcase to its current post-genre space as musical tastemaker, Austin City Limits emerges from its deep Texas roots to flower in many directions.

This book examines the explosion of Fifties nostalgia in Hollywood film and popular music from the early 1970s to the late 1980s. In these years, Hollywood produced a slew of nostalgia films and circulated old movies on VHS; oldies radio allowed record companies to mine their own past, while genres like punk and new wave resurrected old styles; and the film and music industries collaborated to bring Fifties nostalgia to Hollywood soundtrack albums and music videos. In large part, these films, albums, and videos were not directed toward aging Baby Boomers but American teenagers—a “Re-Generation” trained in technological and cultural practices of rewind, record, replay, and rerun. Breaking from the dominant wisdom that casts this “pop nostalgia” as wholly defined by Ronald Reagan’s politics or postmodernist aesthetics, the book both complicates and transcends standard diagnoses of the political function of nostalgia in popular media, and sheds new light on a crucial and underexamined period in American politics and culture.

On January 16, 1938 Benny Goodman brought his swing orchestra to America’s venerated home of European classical music, Carnegie Hall. The resulting concert—widely considered one of the most significant events in American music history—helped to usher jazz and swing music into the American cultural mainstream. This reputation has been perpetuated by Columbia Records’ 1950 release of the concert on LP. This book provides the first in-depth, scholarly study of this seminal concert and recording. Combining rigorous documentary and archival research with close analysis of the recording, the author strips back the accumulated layers of interpretation and meaning to assess the performance in its original context, and explore what the material has come to represent in its recorded form. Taking a complete view of the concert, she examines the rich cultural setting in which it took place, and analyzes the compositions, arrangements and performances themselves, before discussing the immediate reception, and lasting legacy and impact of this storied event and album. As the definitive study of one of the most important recordings of the twentieth century, this book is a must-read for all serious jazz fans, musicians and scholars.

Between Beats: The Jazz Tradition and Black Vernacular Dance explores the complex intersections between jazz music and popular dance over the last hundred-plus years. It aims to show how popular entertainment and cultures of social dancing were crucial to jazz music’s formation and development, but it also investigates the processes through which jazz music came to earn a reputation as a “legitimate” art form better suited for still, seated listening. Through the concept of “choreographies of listening,” the book explores amateur and professional jazz dancers’ relationships with jazz music and musicians as jazz’s soundscapes and choreoscapes were forged through close contact and mutual creative exchange. The book’s later chapters also critically unpack the aesthetic and political negotiations through which jazz music supposedly distanced itself from dancing bodies. As musicians and critics sought to secure institutional space for jazz within America’s body-averse academic and high-art cultures, an intentional severance from the dancing body proved crucial to jazz’s re-positioning as a form of autonomous, elite art. Fusing little-discussed material from diverse historical and contemporary sources with the author’s own years of experience as a social jazz dancer, this book seeks to advance participatory dance and embodied practice as central topics of analysis in jazz studies. As it explores the fascinating history of jazz as popular dance music, this book also exposes how American anxieties about bodies and a broad cultural privileging of the cerebral over the corporeal have shaped efforts to “elevate” expressive forms such as jazz to elite status.

Recorded by his quartet in a single session in 1964, John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme is widely considered one of the greatest jazz albums of all time. A significant record of Coltrane’s transition from the bebop and hard bop of his earlier recordings to the free jazz style perfected throughout the rest of his career, the album is also an embodiment of the deep spirituality that characterized the final years of his life. The album itself comprises a four-part suite; the titles of the four parts-“Acknowledgment,” “Resolution,” “Pursuance,” and “Psalm,”-along with the poem Coltrane composed for inclusion in the liner notes, which he “recites” instrumentally in “Psalm” reflect the religious aspect of the album, a quality that contributes to its mystique and symbolic importance within the canon of seminal jazz recordings. This book explores both the musical aspects of A Love Supreme, and the album’s seminal importance in jazz history. Using criticism of late Coltrane recordings as a starting point, the author suggests ways of listening to these recordings that can be considered outside the conventional ideologies of mainstream jazz practice. The book concludes with a study of the broad musical and cultural impact of the album, examining the relationship between the recording and music, literature, poetry and film.

As a ubiquitous national performance form, musical theatre—an utterly American, unapologetically commercial, earnestly popular, middlebrow genre of art and entertainment—has astonishing staying power. Local productions cross economic, racial, and geographic divides, assuming the status of a national folk practice. Shows are handed down across generations, remarkable in a country with so few common cultural experiences. Artists and audiences learn the Broadway canon, absorb the musical’s conventions, and have a lot of fun in the process. “Broadway,” as a globally recognizable brand, maintains its status as musical theatre’s birthplace, but the form persists in American culture thanks to amateur productions at high schools, community theatres, afterschool programs, summer camps, and dinner theatres. Beyond Broadway illustrates the widespread presence and persistence of musical theatre in US culture and examines it as a social practice: a live, visceral experience of creating, watching, and listening. Why does local musical theatre flourish in America? Why do people continue to find it pleasurable? Why do they passionately engage in an old-fashioned, slow artistic practice that requires intense, person-to-person collaboration? Why do audiences still flock to musicals in their hometowns? What does local musical theatre do? Beyond Broadway answers these questions by traveling across America, stopping at elementary schools, a middle school performance festival, afterschool programs, high schools, summer camps, state park outdoor theatres, community theatres, and dinner theatres. This expedition illustrates the musical’s abundance and longevity as a thriving social activity that touches millions of lives.

Meredith Willson is best remembered as the composer, lyricist, and book writer of The Music Man, one of Broadway and Hollywood’s most enduring works. But it was just one of his four stage musicals and just a small part of his career as a whole. This book uses newly available archival sources from New York, Indiana, and Wisconsin to reassess Willson’s contribution to the musical theater canon, including in-depth analysis of The Unsinkable Molly Brown, Here’s Love, and 1491, in addition to completely new information about the genesis of The Music Man.

This book explores the development of and the social, cultural, and historical context of chiptune, a form of electronic music that emerged from the first generation of video game consoles and home computers in the 1980s. Through a combination of musical and procedural analysis and practitioner interviews, the book explores the role the technical constraints of early video game hardware played in shaping the sound of 8-bit video game music and the inventive approaches to coding and composition musicians used to circumvent them. It examines the sounds, culture, and personalities behind the music and shows how chiptune links as closely to the music of Bach as to the aggressive posturing of punk or the driving electronic sounds of house. The book begins by looking at chiptune’s roots in video game music and discusses how, as the sound chips that gave rise to its distinctive voice were superseded by more sophisticated hardware, chiptune moved underground to become an important part of the demoscene, a networked community of digital artists. It discusses chiptune’s reemergence in the late 1990s as a new wave of young musicians rediscovered these obsolete machines and began to use them as quirky and characterful musical instruments, in the process taking chiptune from the desktop and placing it centre stage. The book concludes by contemplating what lies ahead; as more people incorporate the chiptune sound into their work, will it ever hit the mainstream or will it remain firmly countercultural as part of the digital underground?

This book surveys the music of seventy years of Hindi films and provides a long-term investigation of film songs and their musical and cinematic conventions. Focusing on the music of Hindi language films (i.e. Bollywood) in their historical, social, and commercial contexts, the author pays special attention to the meanings that songs generate inside and outside film narratives and within Indian society at large. Songs are a vital component of film promotion on broadcast media, are distributed via soundtracks by music companies, and have long been the hegemonic popular music genre in India (even for people who rarely watch the films for which the songs were written). The book illustrates how film songs are produced through the collaboration of film directors, music directors (composers), lyricists, musicians, and singers in order to enhance the film narrative, but also to have commercial success outside of the film. Through close musical and multimedia analysis of more than twenty landmark songs, along with biographical and musical descriptions of the people who have crafted and performed these songs, this book illustrates how the creators of Hindi film songs have always mediated a variety of musical styles, instruments, and performance practices from Indian and international sources in order to produce a distinctive Indian music genre. This genre has always had cosmopolitan orientations, yet has consistently retained discrete sound and production practices over its long history.

Brithop investigates rap music’s politics in the twenty-first-century United Kingdom. In it, the author argues that this music is partly an extension of, or often a counter to, political discourses happening in other realms of British society. These rappers are essentially responding through rap to mainstream Britain’s political discourses. The rappers in this book critique the United Kingdom’s more conservative narratives, and they express their relationship to Britain in the politically turbulent climate of the new century, providing valuable perspectives which can go unnoticed by those skeptical of or ignorant of hip-hop culture. Through themes of nationalism, history, subculture, politics, humor, and identity, this book looks at multiple forms of politics in rap discourses from Wales, Scotland, and England. It covers selected hip-hop scenes from 2002 to 2017, featuring rappers and groups such as The Streets, Goldie Lookin Chain, Akala, Lowkey, Stanley Odd, Loki, Speech Debelle, Lady Sovereign, Shadia Mansour, Shay D, Stormzy, Sleaford Mods, Riz MC, and Lethal Bizzle. It investigates how rappers in the United Kingdom respond to the “postcolonial melancholia” (Gilroy) of post-Empire Britain. In contrast to more visible narratives of national identity in Britain, Brithop tells a different, arguably more important, story.

The crossroads where the music of Broadway met popular culture was an expansive and pervasive juncture throughout most of the twentieth century and continues to influence the cultural discourse of today. Broadway to Main Street: How Show Music Enchanted America details how Americans heard the music from Broadway on every Main Street across the country over the last 125 years, from sheet music, radio, and recordings to television and the Internet. The original Broadway cast album—from the 78 rpm recording of Oklahoma! to the digital download of Hamilton—is one of the most successful, yet undervalued, genres in the history of popular recording. The phenomenon of how show tunes penetrated the American consciousness came not only from the original cast albums but from interpreters such as Frank Sinatra and Barbra Streisand, impresarios such as Rudy Vallee and Ed Sullivan, and record producers such as Johnny Mercer and Goddard Lieberson. The history of Broadway music is also the history of American popular music; the technological, commercial, and marketing forces of communications and media over the last century were inextricably bound up in the enterprise of bringing the musical gems of New York’s Theater District to millions of listeners from Trenton to Tacoma, and from Tallahassee to Toronto.

Hip hop and diplomacy are unlikely partners. And yet, since 2001 the US Department of State has been sending hip hop artists to perform and teach around the world. The government has good reason to be interested in hip hop: it is known and loved across the globe, readily acknowledged as a product of American culture. Moreover, hip hop has long been a means of fostering community through creative collaboration—what hip hop artists call building—and can thus facilitate mutual respect and cooperation among people of different nations, a key objective of diplomacy. At heart, Build is about the intersection of art and power. It reveals the power of art to bridge cultural divides, facilitate understanding, and express and heal trauma. Yet power is always double-edged, and the story of hip hop diplomacy is deeply fraught. Build explores the inescapable tensions and ambiguities in the relationship between art and the state, revealing the ethical complexities that lurk behind what might seem mere goodwill tours. In the end, however, Build makes the case that hip hop can be a valuable, positive, and effective means to promote meaningful and productive relations between people and nations. Hip hop, a US-born art form that has become a voice of struggle and celebration worldwide, has the power to build global community at time when it is so desperately needed.

Categorizing Sound addresses the relationship between categories of music and categories of people: in other words, how do particular ways of organizing sound become integral parts of whom we perceive ourselves to be and of how we feel connected to some people and disconnected from others? After an introduction that discusses the key theoretical concepts to be deployed, Categorizing Sound presents a series of case studies that range from foreign music, race music, and old-time music in the 1920s up through hillbilly and swing music in the 1940s, soul music in the 1960s, country and rhythm and blues in the 1980s. Each chapter focuses on the process of “gentrification” through which these categories are produced and how these are articulated to categories of identity (especially those of race and gender). This process is traced by an analysis of the discourses through which ideas about genres circulate, the institutions that either support and sustain genres or withhold their support, and the sounds that become identified with a particular genre and a particular demographic group. The conclusion discusses the pertinence of the approach to genre used in the book to the changes brought about by the internet and file sharing to the circulation of popular music genres.

This book demonstrates how the history of the Broadway musical is inseparable from the history of U.S. women, and argues that this mainstream, commercial form has been dominated by women onstage as performers and offstage as spectators and fans. Beginning in the 1950s and organized by decade, the book examines women in musicals and in the context of U.S. culture, considering both the representation of women—that is, images of women—and the labor of the female performer—that is, her centrality to the musical as performance. In addition to surveying key ideas around gender and sexuality in each decade of U.S. history, every chapter focuses on a specific convention: the female duet in the 1950s; the single woman as a moving body in the 1960s; the ensemble number in the 1970s; sceneography in the 1980s; the opening number and 11 o’clock number in the 1990s. The final chapters on the blockbuster Broadway musical Wicked returns to the 1950s model and analyzes how the musical Wicked reinvigorates the Rodgers and Hammerstein formula in a feminist and queer musical. This book argues that gender, as a key element of the musical, played a crucial role in the Broadway musical’s formal and structural changes from the 1950s on.