So, rather than contesting over what the tragic event in Charleston ought to mean, maybe we, as scholars, should instead inquire what needs to be in place for some to see it in a way that makes no reference to a white shooter and nine black victims. For the interesting question still concerns the practical conditions that need to be in place in order to read something as we do. Oh, and one more thing: given the effort that some people in the US now seem to be putting into framing the attack that killed 9 African-American church-goers a couple days ago in a way that ensures that we don’t end up talking about race (such as seeing it as an attack on Christianity or an opportunity to advocate for arming the population) well, the admittedly dated analysis above (I was publishing on this in 20, after all) seems pretty relevant still. That pop music illustrates all this so nicely is, to me, an added benefit - especially in a field where so many seem to think that our data is somehow obviously set apart and naturally, deeply significant.
The distance between the setting and the emotion of this 2001 performance, on the one hand, and just reading the lyrics, on the other, without any knowledge of the chorus’s hook, is, at least to me, quite provocative over the years, I’ve quite effectively used this song and this performance to press students to mull over how it is that we, as situated human actors, make our worlds habitable and the things in them meaningful - and how different settings and different sets of interests make it possible to see things rather differently.
Suddenly, “Ain’t that America…” has no irony to it whatsoever. One of which happens to be a drug-dealing motorcyclist in a trailer park, by the way.īut who really “sees” that and who “hears” the song as critique? Probably not many - if you know the song I’d wager you’ve never heard it this way.īut, as I argued in 2003, an even better illustration of this general principle - of how contingent context creates meaning, which means that meaning is a flexible historical and social product - was seeing this song performed as part of the Concert for New York City, coming just weeks after the attacks on 9-11.įor now a song that, taking your cue only from the verses’ lyrics, could easily be read as a critique of the the American dream was being sung as a tribute to the first responders who so tragically died that day in their efforts to help the victims in the towers. “Ain’t that America…” therefore sounds more like a sarcastic lament than a patriotic anthem.īut who listens to the verses’ lyrics? Especially when you’ve got a great chorus and a video of classic Americana images?
None of us probably want to swap places with them. While I’m not interested in what the song really means, at the level of lyrics it seems tough to read it as anything but a critique of the common American dream rhetoric for I don’t think we come away agreeing that the black man with “the interstate runnin’ through his front yard,” the greasy kid with the greasy smile who realizes he’ll never amount to much, or that the lady whose partner remembers when she used to be pretty have all got it very good.
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