The Blue Guerrilla, Joe

The Blue Guerrilla, man, what the FUCK was that?!

For real, though, this is no time to back away and make excuses. You know what that would sound like. "I don't know if I understand this" or "this doesn't sound like it's made for me" or shit like that. Maybe those things are true, but this album is so outrageously in-your-face and upfront in its intentions that it would be unfair to tap out so early. It's worth at least an attempt, even if I look like an ignoramus while attempting.

Ooof... okay, let's start by clarifying the "intentions" mentioned in the above paragraph. What are the artist's intentions? If forced, I might say this album is designed to express the frustrations of the Black experience as it was known by Gylan K. in 1970 (so, the late-'60s more like). My interpretation—always a risk that this white male from 2024 is going to misinterpret, so I'm really relying on outside help here, I'm open to it, and I'm comfortable with being told that I'm wrong—is that the frustrations, as experienced by the artist, are a potent mix of hatred from others and self-hate. I hear this in the juxtaposition between the phrases "I ain't Black" and "I ain't white" in "Harlem Preacher." Repeating the word "bastard" in increasingly loud and violent ways is a way of both reveling in the bigotry he's experienced while also bring the audience—some of whom have never been the victim of such speech due to how they look—into his world, shoving that hatred right in their face, all but forcing them to experience it too. It's uncomfortable; it's effective.

It exists to push buttons, I think. There are scenarios in which I can admire those who purposefully push buttons, and that's the case here. If you're actually pushing my buttons, though, then you're most likely not doing it on purpose. Look to any sub-two-puke review I've ever written on this site, and you'll see an artist that is pushing my buttons in a very specific way, but it's not like someone like Jack Harlow is like "I'm specifically making music that a Joe type is going to HATE." That's different than what's happening here, which is a Black poet specifically designing music to make any potential audience as uncomfortable as he can manage. And I guess I'm saying is that, in this case, I find that my buttons are not pushed. I'm more impressed than anything.

Like that Janis Joplin section in "Silly Shit." I think my review for the Joplin-fronted Big Brother and the Holding Company at the beginning of 2024 was pretty levelheaded. I'm not out there singing praises, but I also don't... want her murdered over it. The artist is obviously using hyperbole. I don't think he was literally calling for Janis Joplin to be stabbed to death. The point is to say that people are quick to assign Janis Joplin sainthood for doing things that Black people had been doing for ages already (e.g. working the "cosmic blues"), but Joplin, a white woman, was rewarded with riches and fame for it. I don't think it's inaccurate to say there is something wrong with that. I also think that saying she's a shit-stained bitch who deserved to die (during the same year that she actually went ahead and did it) is a wild exaggeration. It got my attention. It was probably got the loudest "holy shit!" out of me. I don't think that this is going to convince anyone one way or the other of his message here. If you're willing to see through the hyperbole then you already are open to discussing the idea of cultural appropriation. If you don't believe that that's a worthy discussion, then being told that a famous artist was an asshole is probably not going to move that needle. Also factor in the cross-wiring of racism and misogyny through this particular argument, and you have some real complicated, ugly stuff, and, sure, I don't really know how to grapple with it sometimes, but it exists, and I'm reviewing it, and I can say that I'm at least giving it a go. Maybe say something like: good art makes you feel something, and I'm certainly feeling a lot of things while listening to this music.

I was originally going to do this review as a fake conversation between me and an unnamed daughter, probably taking place in the near future when they're a little bit older. But I couldn't figure out a way to give myself a voice in conversation with someone else and not make it sound preachy, like I knew what I was talking about. There needs to be a bit of preaching in parenthood, but it wouldn't have translated well into music criticism. I have a masters in social work and I'm still so fucking over my head when it comes to this kind of thing. I'm of the opinion that any white person who says they have a comfortable handle on it is full of shit. All you can really do is be your true self and seek knowledge and opinion and be a good listener. I'd like to think I was a good listener this week. I'd like to think I understand what the artist is trying to say. I'd like to think that this week of Record Club gave space to a type of artist who might not regularly show up around these parts, and, whether like the album or not, the act of making that space is worth it, I'd say.

Now, whether you think this is like an American Fiction thing is up to you, i.e. whether you think the artist himself is being real or is putting on a show while in that space made specifically for him. I would tend to believe that someone whose career is "poet" should be taken more seriously than most, like I don't think he's being insincere or fucking around or shocking just for shock's sake. But that's gonna be an opinion, not a fact. Is this effective as advocacy? Is it a fuck-you to advocacy? Does the violence actually undermine the message? Or does it make it stand out?

I'm fucking sweating this out, folks. This is a chore, writing this stupid fucking review. I'm not having fun. Maybe not every musical experience should be a barrel of fucking laughs, but I guess when we get right down to it, I'll usually prefer fun over work. Because I'm lazy. That's just how it is. I know that there are battles out there to be fought. I know that it takes vigilance to be anti-racist as opposed to racist. I can feel it in my bones that The Blue Guerrilla is an important album, even if it's not necessarily pleasurable to listen to. I don't think it's a requirement that every album we listen to is Good Times Music.

I think that maybe The Blue Guerrilla isn't even music at all, even though technically it is because it features instruments ostensibly playing together. The instrumentation isn't in the spotlight, though. It's propping up the words. Occasionally it provides a counter-punch. Other times it provides a contrast to the silence that permeates when the artist drops his harshest lines. Maybe the shocked vacuum of space in the split second after a line like "shoulda cut the motha-fucka" is supposed to mimic the loss of breath, and then tumult of free-jazz cacophony during the split-second after that symbolizing when your brain catches up and processes the wild thing that the dude just said. None of this is particularly compelling music in and of itself, more as counterweight to some heavy lyrics. Nothing is catchy in the traditional sense; some of the words will stay with me and repeat themselves in my brain for a while, but that'll be more like a line in a book than a line in a song.

I mentioned American Fiction above and I apologize if you haven't seen it, but I'm gonna mention it again, because I really do feel like there's a chance that I've been somewhat duped here. Which is fine, I don't take offense to it or anything. But I think it's reasonable to think that maybe the artist purposefully made these songs as vulgar as possible to force people like me—white people who tell themselves that they are well-intentioned—to say things like "wow this is a really unique voice" about a free-jazz song in which a Jesus comes back in the form of a blue guerrilla, which is silly and stupid, but what, am I gonna risk saying that it's silly and stupid and reveal that I'm not taking this seriously? It's an album that demands that you take it seriously, and then makes you feel like a fucking asshole when you do. I get it. And I like what it's doing. But that's just me. I'm cool being the butt of the joke if it means we get to talk about all this a little bit more. I can see how people of all shapes and sizes and colors might hear this and get upset. I like that too. It's ballsy. Gotta imagine that it was even more ballsy in 1970.

But, ya know, a ballsy idea and the gumption to go through with it does not automatically equate to a great listening experience. But it certainly is something. What the FUCK that was, though, maybe I'll never know.

GRADE: 3 pukes out of 5