Alan Schrager is a longtime reader who frequently comments on All About Race. So when he submitted this post, I thought it the perfect way to kick off a short All About Race series reflecting on how music and race intersect in America. Here is Alan’s post:

When I worked as a percussionist in the United States Air Force Band career field back in the 1980’s, I was surrounded by some really talented musicians who had some interesting things to say. I was stationed at two assignments, my first being at Scott Air Force Base in Southern Illinois near St. Louis, Missouri and the second one at March Air Force Base in Southern California outside Los Angeles. It is from the latter assignment I have to share a very funny conversation between a very young white jazz trumpeter from Port Charlotte, Florida who adored the music of Miles Davis, Chet Baker, Chick Corea, Oscar Peterson, …anything Jazz and another fellow who loved the classical music of Bach, Beethoven, Handel, Rossini, Verdi, anything Classical: he was a black oboist from Detroit, Michigan playing in the concert band.

The trumpet player’s name was Keith. He could pass as a carefree beatnik surfer dude, as much as the oboist Reginald came across as a goody two shoed airman ready to iron all his shirts, pants and underwear at a moments notice. Somehow Keith approached Reginald and asked: “You like Jazz?” and Reggie answered: “I guess.”

This must have piqued Keith’s curiosity to ask: “Do you know any Miles?”

Well I could tell from his question that Reggie was thinking this one through pretty well and said: “Who’s Miles?”

“OH MY GOD !YOU DON’T KNOW WHO MILES DAVIS IS!” “MAN ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE A BROTHER?” Reggie just stood there trying to figure out what just happened. At this point, Keith had turned really red.

I told Keith to chill, but then he said: “How can he be a brother and not know who Miles Davis is?!”

I had to say at that point: “Take a look at the instrument he plays, an oboe. His music veers toward classical so much of his exposure is to that world of music.”

Keith quickly responded: “Yeah, but Miles? Come on, everybody knows who Miles is!” Obviously Reggie didn’t.

Reggie was such a nice person. He and I had some really good conversations on the bus traveling on various tours. Keith was a really great cat and we had driven an equipment truck to Las Vegas once; that was a whole other story!

To break the silence Keith says: “Okay Reggie… I will ask if you know who Stevie Wonder is?”

Reggie without hesitation says: “No.”

“OH MY GOD, HE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW WHO STEVIE WONDER IS!” Then Keith says: “Unless you are from the North Pole you have to know who he is! So Reggie where are you from anyway?”

Reggie replies: “Detroit, Michigan”

Keith by now is so flabbergasted, he cannot believe what his ears heard as he starts to shake him at the shoulders to say: “Hey man, show me the Funk! You even come from where Motown was born. Don’t tell me you don’t know who Aretha Franklin is?!”

Reggie did recognize her name, but Keith still said real loud: “YOU ARE THE WHITEST BLACK DUDE IN THE UNIVERSE!”

By now I couldn’t help but laugh as Reggie is looking at me saying: “Guess I’ll be listening to some new music.”

Music is the universal language, but it is also as personal to the individual listening to it. Old stereotypes do not apply when it comes to the type an individual gets exposure to. The power of what any great piece of music does is to help inspire us to change things. Look at what Sting’s song “Russians” did to help move us toward a greater understanding between the US and USSR during the Cold War. Diversity in music, allows each of us to choose the type we need in nourishing our stranded souls. I suppose that is why they say music can move us.