100 books like Appalachian Patterns

This is a story of Jazz by the musicians who made it. Hear Me Talkin' to Ya is a wide study of the Jazz at its source (New Orleans) through the era of Big Bands and into Modern Jazz, from Kid Ory to Dave Brubeck. This book doesn’t have a narrative or authors’ opinions. This book features passages quoted by Billie Holiday, Mary Lou Williams, Lil Harden Armstrong, Louis Armstrong, Jelly Roll Morton, Othello Tinsley, Dizzy Gillespie, and a hundred other musicians.

We’ve entered a second era of inclusion. Women now play an essential role in creating music. Add Lizzie Miles, Anita O’Day, Ethel Waters, Lena Horne, Mary Ann McCall, Alberta Hunter, and Leora Henderson and we get a different perspective of the evolution of music culture.  

My interest in music takes its roots deep into Louisiana because the first music was vocal.

Not only music but all literature had its beginnings in the words of history and folk songs. This book brought light into my young life. It was the beginning to understand American culture through its clearly defined early music. I carried various printings of Gumbo Ya-Ya with me through my early travels through Memphis, Louisiana, Como, Mississippi, etc. The book opened my mind to the history, and because of the book, the traveling opened my mind to the music.

I lived in Memphis during the early 1960. I visited the Sun Recording Studios at 706 Union Avenue, and then 639 Madison Avenue. Sam Phillips created Sun Records. He was the first person to record, Howlin’ Wolf, Ike Turner, B. B. King, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, /Carl Perkins, Roy Orbison, Jerry Lee Lewis, and dozens of other musicians. Race didn’t matter to Sam, even though he lived and recorded in a deep, tough Jim Crow city.

Escott’s and Hawkins’ book captures the remarkable history of that small record label stuck in the depths of the time of mean southern roots. Vital book to dig into the creative, insightful mind of Sam Phillips, and his journey to bring rural, rough-hewed music to a wider, white audience.

Yes, the title is spelled correctly. I’ve known Stanley Booth from our days in Memphis. He has written about The Rolling Stones, B. B. King, Al Green, and Keith Richards. Keith wrote that “The interesting thing about music to me is that music has always seemed streaks ahead of any other Art form or any other form of social expression.” It has never been said any better.

Stanley Booth’s Rythm Oil contains studies of numerous, forgotten musicians and singers. It is a study of remote history. Stanley Booth doesn’t write with ink. He writes with grit.

The definitive book on outsider musicians, from The Shaggs to Jandek to the hyper-obscure likes of Y. Bhekhirst, who left copies of his outrageously bizarre cassette album, Hot In the Airport, at several NYC record stores before permanently disappearing into thin air. A detailed work that required copious original research to dig up murky facts about obscure musicians, it has been an inspiration to me as a writer. In fact, in my book I dedicate an entire chapter to outsider musicians of the digital age, in obvious homage to this magical tome.

I’ve spent a lot of time with this remarkable book over the years.

I suppose my greatest takeaway is the way Ward explores music’s meaning from a variety of angles and intersections: musical, economic, legal, racial, gender, class, and generational.

The airwaves could not be segregated; music gave insight into the Black freedom struggle and a shared sense of humanity that helped topple Jim Crow barriers nationwide. I particularly appreciate how Ward unpacks the ways Black audiences shaped the sounds of the era. Black music reflected an optimism and an assertion of racial pride, and you’ll find the modern Civil Rights Movement at the heart of his book.

Crossroads: African American freedom struggle, Postwar America, the South

A provocative pre-history of rock music, written to provoke. (Don’t hold your breath waiting for John, Paul, George, and Ringo to show up.)

Wald crafts a fascinating alternative history of commercial popular music in the first half of the twentieth century, asking readers to focus not on big names or influential records but on the everyday practices, technologies, and contexts through which musicians and listeners actually experienced the music. Avoid if you don’t want to see a few sacred cows slaughtered.

Over the past few decades, so much writing about rock has sought to overturn received wisdom about the music.

Feldman-Barrett’s excellent, funny, and beautifully written book – re-examining the Beatles in relation to the lives of women – is the best kind of alternative history. She turns the story of the Beatles upside down, and makes you rethink everything you thought you knew about the group.

David Hewitt’s On the Road: Recording the Stars in a Golden Era of Live Music is an important contribution to the extensive annals of popular music history in that it focuses on the business of live recording that was an integral component to the explosion of rock ‘n’ roll from the 1960s through the 1980s. Hewitt was a top live recording engineer and his expertise permeates the pages of the richly detailed book.

This is the book that changed my view of music and made me realise that I could write about popular music from a sociological perspective and not bore people to death!

Simon combines the punchy directness of a music critic with a thorough understanding of music as a social force that shapes our lives, loves, and identities. The book demonstrates an encyclopedic knowledge of 20th-century popular music.

I often start any research project by using the index to look up related terms and ask: “What does Simon say?” I particularly like the sections on how star persona works, and the chapter on technology is a must, too.