Unpacking the Ethical Issues Behind the "Sound of Wakanda"
An Opinion Piece by Zack Holden
Stan Lee and Jack Kirby debuted Black Panther, the first superhero of African descent, in an edition of Fantastic Four two years before the passing of the Civil Rights Act of 1968. Exactly five decades later, the eponymous blockbuster, deemed a "woke superhero fantasy" by online sports and culture magazine The Undefeated, made headlines as the highest-grossing film by a black director. With the recent resurgence in the Black Lives Matter movement, the film, which features a majority black cast and anti-postcolonial narrative, stands as a radical and reformist dissident against the systemically white-washed film industry.
Music serves a central role in the intricate world-building and story-telling throughout Black Panther: an original soundtrack was developed by Pulitzer Prize-winning rapper Kendrick Lamar, and an original score was developed by six-time Grammy nominated composer, conductor, and producer Ludwig Göransson. The score in particular is a compelling listen, blending orchestral pieces with African instrumentals, but the specific use of music does raise some ethical concerns that can be identified by examining questions of authority and representation, as well as the closely related concept of exclusion.
In an interview with Pitchfork magazine, Göransson explains his process for developing the score, which included a trip to Africa spent touring with local Senegalese musicians and studying recordings at the International Library of African Music in Grahamstown, South Africa. After reading the interview, it is readily apparent that Göransson attempted to honor the ethnologies of the instruments and sounds he incorporated into the Black Panther compositions, yet the explicit language he uses demonstrates the fact that he considers himself an authority on those same cultures. By launching into detailed digressions about how "music from Africa is a language" or "officiants in Africa are called griots", Göransson commits an offense that philosopher Linda Alcoff coined "speaking for others". In her landmark essay titled "The Problem of Speaking for Others", Alcoff defines "speaking for others" as striving to interpret (and in turn provide a representation of) the social behavior, norms, and beliefs of a particular group of people to which you do not belong. In this case, Göransson "speaks for" the African communities when he, a Swedish-born and American-educated producer, analyzes their musical cultures for a predominantly Western audience.
By launching into detailed digressions about how "music from Africa is a language" or "officiants in Africa are called griots", Göransson commits an offense that philosopher Linda Alcoff coined "speaking for others".
Moreover, the underlying power dynamics at play are accentuated by Göransson's use of the term "research" to describe his fieldwork. Alcoff contends that having the ability to speak on behalf of a different community comes from a position of cultural and economic power, and Göransson exercises this dominance through his choice of verbage. Intentionality aside, there are inherent hierarchical connotations in applying words like "researching" or "studying" towards ethnographic contexts, since it can be inferred that the group doing the studying is more influential—and in turn more "advanced" or "developed"—than the group being studied. He places himself in a position of privilege, and it comes through in the score's overall sound.
Instrumentally, the score combines a traditional orchestra with various African components collected during Göransson's travels throughout Senegal and South Africa, and the resulting arrangements consequently exude the stereotypical Western interpretation of an "African aesthetic", typically a pastiche of misappropriated rhythms and refrains that altogether seem "tribal". In How Musical Is Man?, British ethnomusicologist John Blacking outlines this derivative—and pervasive—practice of decontextualizing music, which he describes as "studying music as a thing in itself". He conjectures that the sonic uniquities (e.g. tone, pitch, rhythm) that comprise music are often not as important as their extramusical representations (e.g. emotions, political connotations, collective experiences).
Accordingly, we can gain a deeper understanding of all music—as well as what it means for something to even be considered "music"—by first understanding the "structural factors" dictating how music functions within a society and why it evokes distinct emotions in different people. In this way, it was not sufficient for Göransson just to acknowledge that a particular African rhythm has been applied toward combat situations for generations: he should have also come to understand the reasons why the culture has interacted with that particular rhythm in such a way. Thus, while Göransson tried to maintain as much cultural significance as possible from the gathered samples, complete preservation was ultimately unrealizable.
Composer Ludwig Göransson working with Baaba Maal and other Senegalese artists. (PC: Variety)
At one point, Göransson states, "The most difficult part is that as soon as you put production and orchestra on top of African music, it doesn’t sound African anymore. So the challenge was incorporating these things and making them still feel African." Here, it becomes clear that the score can be classified by what musicologist and University of Pennsylvania professor of music Guthrie Ramsey calls "race music". While Ramsey uses the moniker "race" as a means to highlight the ethnocentric nature of genres (namely jazz, gospel, R&B, and hip-hop) rooted in African-American culture, it can also be applied to the aforementioned idealized African aesthetic. Furthermore, Ramsey's thesis nods to the racial essentialism that exists in the music industry today.
White artists frequently appropriate playing techniques or sonic elements from race music and then bring them to a mainstream audience, thus barring the original black creators from receiving the associated recognition or monetary profits. This vicious cycle of appropriation followed by exclusion has occurred repeatedly throughout history, from Elvis Presley borrowing heavily from gospel and blues styles; to Jimmy Page combining skiffle with the blues sounds of B.B. King, Elmore James, and Buddy Guy; to even white German acid house producers adopting personas like Ellis de Havilland in order to sell their music. A careful examination reveals that the Black Panther score is no different. Göransson, a white producer, borrowed heavily from African cultures and ultimately received primary artistic and compositional credits on all the pieces in the score, despite significant contributions from a 40-person Xhosa choir and several Senegalese musicians, among them the highly-revered spiritual pop singer Baaba Maal.
White artists frequently appropriate playing techniques or sonic elements from race music and then bring them to a mainstream audience, thus barring the original black creators from receiving the associated recognition or monetary profits.
That being said, the elephant in the room still remains as to why Göransson felt compelled to supplement the African instrumentation with a Western orchestra, rather than letting the talking drums, tambins, and vocal ensembles stand on their own. The answer appears to lie in the definition of "high art", an expression often used in discussing music that breeds racial exclusion. The concept of "high art" prevents many popular and culturally significant forms of music from being viewed as aesthetically or intellectually valuable, thereby implying that musical value can purely be derived from the socioeconomic status and ethnic traditions of its creators. This, in turn, provides an explanation for why indigenous African music is precluded from being considered "high art" despite the fact that it features polyrhythms, syncopation, improvisation, and other elements that rival both the technical complexity and proficiency of classical European compositions. Film scores are widely considered contemporary instances of musical "high art"; therefore, it is only proper for the keynote African instrumentals to be accompanied by orchestral arrangements.
Now, that is not to say that Göransson deliberately disregarded the ethics of authority and representation while penning the Black Panther score. (In fact, there is quite a bit of evidence pointing to the contrary.) Rather, the argument typifies how dangerous exclusionary thought originates in erudite fields like musicology and music theory and then trickles down to affect the entire music industry. The palpable conscientiousness and diligence in Göransson's compositional process serves as a beacon of hope for the future, indicating that modern producers are taking heed to honor the ethnographic origins of their subject matter. Yet, it simultaneously serves as a stark indication that there is still much to be done before all ethical concerns in musical representations will be properly satisfied.