Every year when our little hamlet of Provincetown empties out, I am reminded of the wonderful song from the musical Grey Gardens, “Another Winter in a Summer Town.” This year those melancholy feelings seem quaint. When the town is so quiet, empty and cold, I find comfort in cracking open another book, never knowing precisely what I will find. From the stacks of books received by Queerguru, David Bowie Made Me Gay: 100 Years of LGBT Music was one of those I started without knowing what it might have to say. Darryl W. Bullock has a LOT to say.
The length of the bibliography and voluminous endnotes are the marks of just how extensively the author researched a century of LGBT influences. The chapters are prolific and provide a trove of information that encompasses every possible genre of music. It was quite an education.
Among the many chapters, there are several standouts. The stories of jazz, blues and so-called “race-music” were revelatory. Who knew there were so many LGBT performers weaving inside jokes and rather blatant wink-winks to those in the know? Some of the lyrics and performances were really raunchy, filthy tunes that delighted the crowds. The term “bull dyker blues” is the title of one chapter. These stories span several decades and overlap with other notable eras, including the pansy craze.
The predictable cycle of pushing the limits of decency until there is a conservative backlash applies to many of these eras, driven by social change, war, political influence and economic distress. That seems to be a given throughout the century. “Three steps forward, two steps back,” a familiar trope that happens again and again.
One interesting reference referred to the origin of what we regard as camp but actually began as “KAMP,” an acronym for “known as a male prostitute.” You see the genesis of such ideas and how they morph into the culture over a long span of time.
Though probably familiar to many, the history of “womyn’s music” is covered in great detail. It seems to have peaked, then withered, after the ruckus over whether trans women would be allowed to attend or perform at the festivals. The lesbian performers who continued to thrive seemed to have adopted a different focus and forged their way in alternative or even mainstream success.
Given my age, I was already aware of the disco era and the important characters involved. It was still interesting to read Bullock’s narrative of how much it changed social mores. AIDS shut down the party but another influential sound would eventually expand on the continued popularity of dance music. The Moog synthesizer may have been the most important precursor in the evolution of electronic and house music. The 80s, another bountiful era of LGBT influence (particularly from the UK) in music is the soundtrack of my high school and college years. I am biased in that regard. Whatever your preferred genre, you will find good stories in this encyclopedic history.
Most people already know the major stars and might not learn anything that revelatory about their favorites. Bowie was the major influence for Bullock and I learned a few things that are not so widely disseminated. The strength of the book lies in filling in the rest of the stories. Little-known performers often carried an outsized influence and contribution and finally get their due.
Described as ‘a veritable Bard of the bent, broken and Baroque’ by Andy Partridge (XTC), Darryl W. Bullock is a writer, publisher and editor, specializing in music and the arts. Bullock is the author of The World’s Worst Records (Volumes 1 and 2) and Florence Foster Jenkins: the Life of the World’s Worst Opera Singer (Duckworth-Overlook, 2016). He posts weekly on his popular blog, The World’s Worst Records (www.worldsworstrecords.co.uk)
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REVIEW: STEPHEN COYQueerguru Contributor STEPHEN COY has been an avid reader all his (very long) life ? and is finally putting his skills to good use. He lives in Provincetown full time with his husband Jim, having finally given up the bright lights of Boston and now haunts the streets mumbling to himself that no one reads anymore …
Labels: 2020, book review, Stephen Coy
