Darryl W Bullock

I am deeply conflicted about this book. On the one hand, it’s an important document, in that I haven’t seen anyone tackle the topic and there’s a lot to be learned and a lot to be inspired by. On the other, Bullock is writing from an older and less than current understanding of some queer identities (see warnings below) and outright omits any queer identity that isn’t L, G, B, or T. On the third, the book frequently gets bogged down in details such as record sales; assumes nerd level knowledge by, say, mentioning genres without defining them or assuming you know that band; and is just poorly edited enough that it can be hard to track who’s doing what to who when.

Oh, and if you’re looking for major icons like Bowie, Mercury, and John, they’re footnotes. I personally am okay with this because they have their own bios and the book largely exists to lift lesser known people into the limelight, but at the same time, I was disappointed that they featured as little as they did because they were still inspirations and important people and, well, Bowie is in the title.

Bullock’s done a very good job of covering his topic, though. All the queer musicians I knew of were mentioned, from Billy Tipton to Sister Rosetta Tharpe to k.d. lang (but not MIKA, now that I think of it), and a lot of musicians I’d never heard of or never knew were queer also feature. He also lists songwriters and music executives and the whole gamut of genres, from jazz to rock to folk to country to rap to musicals, and also mentions songs with queer content that weren’t by queer artists. After a few chapters, I started looking up songs and musicians on Youtube and adding them to a playlist that I’m still working through a few weeks later. There’s some pretty good music out there.

I also liked that he tells enough history of the wider queer community, the music industry, and the wider culture in general that you get context for how music and the world was changing. When did drag start and why? Why did disco become a gay thing? How did Stonewall and AIDS change things? Plus there’s discussion of lesbians and feminist folk festivals, of glam rock pairing gay flamboyance, of forgotten independent albums that have been rediscovered because of the internet, of the ups and downs in one’s ability to be out over time, of hooking up with people in bars.

And I appreciate that even though Bullock is very anglophone-focused, he’s made at least some effort to mention musicians and music from outside the English-speaking world and outside Europe. There’s not much, granted, but it’s there. He’s also up front about how some genres or countries are so homophobic that you can’t get a sense of the queer music history there because everyone is still closeted.

So, content-wise, apart from the infodump problem, I enjoyed this. I learned a lot and think it’s an important window into queer history that I’m kind of boggled has only been written now. As I said, there’s a lot to be inspired by, a lot of people being queer in their music and out despite the repercussions, and a definite sense that yes, queer people have always been here and better, they helped found whole genres. I’d certainly rec it to music lovers and people into queer history, even despite Bullock’s sporadically blinkered attitude towards identities and the other aforementioned problems, for that reason—but I cannot rec it without those warnings, which are also why this is not a 7.5 out of 10.

To bear in mind: Bullock appears at times to understand bisexuality as an undecided, questioning, or hedging identity and is definitely okay with misgendering and deadnaming trans musicians only to mention partway through the section that actually they are a man/woman. Similarly, he uses “transsexual”, seems to believe that people who’ve undergone surgery are more trans than those who haven’t, and defines “asexual” as genderless and sexually harmless. On another note, because this is a history of queer people and queer culture, any and all traumas that the community has faced appear, ranging from slurs and homophobic statements to gay bashings and the AIDS crisis. There is also a chapter that prominently features TERF musicians and TERF-friendly feminist spaces, but which also makes it quietly clear they’re harmful and not okay.

6.5/10… (más)

Eccentric socialite Florence Foster Jenkins (FFJ) (1868-1944) was the laughingstock of the New York City's smart set during the 1930s and 40s. This wealthy heiress was best known for her florid vocal performances and her complete inability to hit the proper notes. Her shows always sold out, but she didn't understand that underneath their applause and cheers, her adoring audiences were barely suppressing their laughter at her campy costumes and dreadful voice. As one critic wrote, "Jenkins' performances are a catalogue of every vocal fault and failure imaginable" (p. 97). Yet some claim that she was so bad, and so devoted to her art despite the naysayers, that she was good.

On the heels of two recent films about FFJ, a documentary and a feature film starring Meryl Streep, author Darryl Bullock has come out with this brief biography of the woman he calls the "delusional diva" (he is fond of such alliterative formulations). This book is not terribly well-written (see page 74 for an example of how not to write a paragraph), but it does have some insights into FFJ as both a person and as a phenomenon. For example, Bullock points out that FFJ was a product of the women's club milieu, which supported amateur performers' attempts to bring "culture" to the masses. He also mentions in passing that his heroine may have suffered from either late-stage syphilis or mercury poisoning, but he does not elaborate on either theory.

This book will be of interest to FFJ's new fans.… (más)