

However, the label ran into financial trouble and was eventually swallowed up by Paramount, which was quickly becoming one of the most important race labels. Not all race record labels were white-owned: Black Swan Records, for example, released about 150 race records, including recordings of black classical musicians.


Suddenly, every label wanted to produce “race records,” and black audiences, who had been excluded from recorded music for so long, wanted to buy them. This time, it sold 100,000 copies, and other record labels hustled to get in on the trend. Smith then recorded “Crazy Blues,” the first blues record. But when black audiences heard that they could buy a record of a black performer singing black music, they rushed to the stores, buying 75,000 copies of the record despite it costing the equivalent of two hours of work at an average black person’s salary. Mamie Smith, a blues singer, recorded two songs, which were released with marketing that downplayed her race. At the time, the label had an entire division of “foreign” records in languages like Norwegian and Yiddish that were recorded for immigrant communities, and Bradford convinced the label to take a chance on recording a black singer for the line. Then, in 1920, a black composer named Perry Bradford went to Okeh Records to try to convince them to record a black artist. But for the most part, black people could only be found behind the scenes, writing many recorded hits but receiving little money, fame or credit for their work. Johnson, the first black person ever recorded, who became known as “The Whistling Coon” for his ragtime whistling starting in 1890, and vaudevillians George Walker and Bert Williams, who recorded a variety of songs at the turn of the 20th century. There were a few early exceptions: George W. Recording equipment-still in its infancy-was bulky, expensive, and entirely owned by white people, and white people didn’t listen to black music except for vaudeville songs that were sung by white people in blackface. But discrimination and income inequity meant that nearly no black artists were recorded. And though they documented and celebrated some of the best black music of their day, from blues to vaudeville to jazz, race records didn’t always benefit African-Americans.Īt the turn of the 20th century, black Americans performed in all sorts of musical genres: ragtime, vaudeville, all-black orchestras. That’s because race records were sold in stores and advertised in publications that catered to African-Americans.
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Record Rendezvous in Cleveland, Ohio specialized in selling “race music,” which was early rock and roll.Ī black person might own a shelf full of records by groundbreaking artists like Ma Rainey, Jelly Roll Morton or Duke Ellington, all of whom became best-selling artists on so-called “race records.” But a white person might have no idea who any of those artists were, though they had sold thousands of copies. But though these artists pioneered new sounds in blues, jazz and gospel, most labored for no recognition and little pay. “I didn’t get no royalties, because I didn’t know nothing about trying to demand for no money, see,” he told Alan Lomax in 1947.īroonzy was just one of the thousands of black recording artists who helped fuel the phenomenon of race records between 19. But though he recorded hundreds of songs in just a decade, responding to a national hunger for black voices and black music, he barely made any money. But when he found himself in front of a microphone in a recording studio, the blues musician knew he had found his niche.īroonzy’s recordings were sold as “race records”-music for and by black audiences. Like many other black men, he worked as a janitor and a Pullman porter and a cook. A sharecropper turned soldier, he had left Mississippi and headed north to escape the pervasive racism of the Jim Crow South along with thousands of other African-Americans in the Great Migration. In 1926, a self-taught musician named Big Bill Broonzy found his way to Chicago.
