A Rich Satire About Street Art, Or Is It A Hoax?

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'Inside' A Backup Singer's Journey To Center Stage

TERRY GROSS, host:

This is FRESH AIR. I'm Terry Gross.

There aren't many jazz singers who really have a feel for songs from the '20s,
'30s and '40s. Catherine Russell does, and maybe that has something to do with
being the daughter of Luis Russell, a pianist and composer who worked as Louis
Armstrong's musical director in most of the 1930s and early '40s.

Although Catherine Russell is now in her 50s, it's only recently that she
started recording early jazz and pop songs, songs associated with such singers
as Louis Armstrong, Bessie Smith, Fats Waller, Hoagy Carmichael, Lena Horne and
Frank Sinatra.

For a long time, she was a back-up singer for such performers as Paul Simon,
David Bowie, Cyndi Lauper and the band Steely Dan. We're going to hear the
interview I recorded with her in 2008, after the release of her album
"Sentimental Streak." Let's start with a track from her new CD, "Inside This
Heart of Mine." This is "As Long As I Live," written by Harold Arlen and Ted
Koehler.

(Soundbite of song, "As Long As I Live")

Ms. CATHERINE RUSSELL (Singer): (Singing) Maybe I can't live to love you as
long as I want to. Life isn't long enough, baby, but I can love you as long as
I live.

Yeah, maybe I can't give you diamonds and things like I want to, but I can
promise you, baby, I'm gonna want to as long as I live.

Well, I never cared, but now I'm scared I won't live long enough. That's why I
wear my rubbers when it rains and eat an apple every day then see the doctor
anyway.

What if I can't live to love you as long as I want to. Long as I promise you,
baby, I'm gonna love you as long I live.

GROSS: Music from Catherine Russell's new CD, "Inside This Heart of Mine." I
asked her what it was like growing up with a father who had been Louis
Armstrong's music director.

I know your father died when you were seven.

Ms. RUSSELL: Yes.

GROSS: So you didn't know him as you matured. But did you grow up with a lot of
early jazz recordings? Because you certainly have a feel for early jazz on your
own recordings.

Ms. RUSSELL: Well, his recordings were some of the first recordings I remember
hearing in my life, you know. So that element of swing and fun, you know, was
some of the earliest music that I absorbed. You know, and I thought wow, that
sounds like fun.

And "The New Call of the Freaks," one of his hits, you know, for Luis Russell
Orchestra, was one of the first things I remember hearing. And I thought that's
funny, and every time I heard it, I would laugh, you know.

So I just love the swing of music and when people went out to socialize and
dance to swing music. So that's really why I'm drawn to that period of jazz.

GROSS: Well, I'm glad you mentioned "Call of the Freaks" because that's one of
your father's better-known tunes.

Ms. RUSSELL: Yes.

GROSS: And your father did two songs. There was – that are similar. There's
"Call of the Freaks," and then there's "New Call of the Freaks."

Ms. RUSSELL: Right, right.

GROSS: Let's play one of them. Which would you like us to play?

Ms. RUSSELL: I would say "New Call of the Freaks" because that one has the
vocal trio arrangement and the lyrics: Take out the can, here comes the garbage
man, which I thought was so funny when I was a kid.

GROSS: Okay, so this is Luis Russell, Catherine Russell's father, and his band.

(Soundbite of song, "The New Call of the Freaks")

LUIS RUSSELL AND HIS ORCHESTRA: (Singing) Take out your can, here comes the
garbage man. In the morning, take out your can, here comes the garbage man. In
the evening, take out your can, here comes the garbage man.

GROSS: That's "New Call of the Freaks," featuring my guest, Catherine
Russell's, father, Luis Russell, who had his own band in the '20s and '30s and
then became music director for Louis Armstrong.

And while we're giving a shout out to your father and his musical influence on
you, we should also mention that your mother, Carline Ray, is a musician and
singer. Is it guitar or bass or both?

Ms. RUSSELL: Well, it's both, actually. She was a member of the International
Sweethearts of Rhythm in the mid-'40s during the second world war, when a lot
of female musicians came to the forefront as a result of the men, you know,
going to war.

So a lot of female musicians emerged at that time, and she joined the
Sweethearts, I think, right after she graduated from Julliard School of Music
in 1946. And she was the band guitarist and then featured vocalist at some
points.

GROSS: And International Sweethearts of Rhythm was an all-women's band.

Ms. RUSSELL: All-female orchestra, yes, all-female jazz orchestra.

GROSS: And here's another question about your mother.

Ms. RUSSELL: Yes.

GROSS: Did she tell you interesting things about what it was like in the '40s
to be a female jazz musician?

Ms. RUSSELL: Yeah, there were a lot of stories, you know, which formed who she
is. And just, you know, she was playing guitar in the '40s and then switched to
bass mainly in the '50s. And you know how people would just laugh when she'd
walk in, you know, saying oh, little girl, you know, what are you doing with
that big instrument, you know, type of thing.

And, you know, people really did not take women seriously and particularly, you
know, African-American women, and, you know. She would tell me stories about
how there was one night where, you know, black and white started to mix. They
were playing some kind of a dance function, and they created a bomb scare
because they didn't want the races to be mixing on the dance floor.

They'd have ropes down the middle of the dance floor so that black and white
couldn't mix, you know, all kinds of different things like that.

So, you know, I really feel that the women that came up in that period of jazz
were strong beyond our imagination. They really were.

GROSS: So, you know, you sing a lot of jazz and blues. We talked about the
influence of your father, Luis Russell, who started leading his band in the
1920s. What was the music of your contemporaries, your friends when you were
growing up?

Ms. RUSSELL: Mostly I'd say the first – you know, I started collecting 45
recordings when I was, I don't know, seven or eight years old. So the first 45
I think I bought was by The Supremes, and I was really into Motown because
that's what was, you know, playing on popular radio at that time. And then
later on, rock 'n' roll, you know, all of the Jefferson Airplane, Grateful
Dead, Led Zeppelin, you know, variety of classic rock. And then actually soul
music so Sam Cooke, Otis Redding, Joe Tex, all of those artists.

GROSS: Now, you had said that one of your influences when you were coming of
age was soul music and Sam Cooke. So I thought we'd go to your first CD.

Ms. RUSSELL: Okay.

GROSS: And listen to you doing a Sam Cooke song, and we're going to hear "Put
Me Down Easy" from your first CD, which is called "Cat," which is short for
Catherine, and my guess is Catherine Russell.

Ms. RUSSELL: Yes.

GROSS: Do you want to say anything about this selection before we hear it?

Ms. RUSSELL: Sam Cooke also produced so many artists, and those productions,
those tunes are great, too, you know, the ones that he's not singing. So this
is one sung his brother, L.C. Cooke, and it just struck me when I heard it, and
I said: I just have to sing this song.

GROSS: Okay, and here's Catherine Russell, from her first CD, which is called
"Cat."

Ms. RUSSELL: (Singing) I don't know why it should be, but lately I can plainly
see you're cool to me. Do what you wanna do, but darling all I ask of you, put
me down easy, put me down easy baby. Yeah, don't you make it rougher, and don't
make me suffer just put me down easy.

If you found somebody new, there is nothing I can do but ask it to...

GROSS: That's Catherine Russell from her first CD, "Cat," singing a song
written by Sam Cooke. Let's talk a little bit more about how – what life was
like for you as a back-up singer. I mean, among the people who you sang with
were Al Green, David Bowie, Isaac Hayes, yes?

Ms. RUSSELL: Yes, yes. Al Green and Isaac Hayes were TV shows. So I've also
gotten to do a lot of shows with, you know, late-night shows with those
artists. So I got to sing with Al Green twice, and...

GROSS: Tell me something about singing with Al Green.

Ms. RUSSELL: I was in a section of three women, and we sang "I'm Still in Love
with You." So...

GROSS: And what was the part like? What's the part that you were doing?

Ms. RUSSELL: Uh, let's see...

(Soundbite of singing)

Ms. RUSSELL: You know, some oohs and aahs and...

Ms. RUSSELL: (Singing) Don't you know I'm still in, sure enough in love with
you.

You know, and so the three of us were harmonizing behind him, and you know, in
the clip that I taped from the show, I'm just grinning from ear to ear. I'm
just so happy, and I'm laughing, you know, and so – you know, you just see me
on camera laughing, basically, between phrases.

GROSS: Okay, let's try another. Touring with David Bowie, what did you have to
do?

Ms. RUSSELL: Well, I got that gig because David was looking for someone that
could sing backup parts, you know, backup vocals and play keyboard parts, which
I can do. I did that with Cyndi Lauper.

And so it turned out, though, that David let me do everything that I can do,
which is play mandolin, I played guitars, I played percussion, and I was really
integrated. It's a real band situation with him. So, you know, he's a member of
the band. He just happens to be the front person who wrote all these amazing
songs, you know, but it's a very integrated situation.

So it was a fabulously busy gig for me. So on every song, I was doing something
else: string arrangements, you know, that I'd learned. And it was just the most
incredible musical experience for me, you know, to be singing "Ziggy Stardust"
with him and playing, you know, power chords on an electric guitar. That was
fantastic.

GROSS: What were your lines?

Ms. RUSSELL: Well, it was kind of...

Ms. RUSSELL: (Singing) So where were the spiders, while the fly tried to...

Ms. RUSSELL: You know, and so it's all of those parts of the song. And also...

Ms. RUSSELL: (Singing) Come on, come on. We've really got a good thing going.
Come on, come on, if you want to (unintelligible).

Ms. RUSSELL: You know, and that was another song from "The Rise and Fall of
Ziggy Stardust" that I just love.

GROSS: So what do you do onstage when you're a backup singer during the parts
when you're not singing?

Ms. RUSSELL: Well, if you're not – if I'm not playing an instrument, I'm either
in a section with other women moving together, so we make sure that, you know,
we're moving right, and then we're moving left so the section looks
coordinated. And if I'm playing an instrument, I'm just doing that and being
animated.

GROSS: Right.

Ms. RUSSELL: You know, you can't really – yeah, you have to be animated. You
can't really stand still and look bored and all that type of thing. You really
must reflect that you're happy to be there, you know, so – which is I think
something that horn players could do more of.

(Soundbite of laughter)

GROSS: Instead of walking out and having a smoke while somebody else solos or
something.

Ms. RUSSELL: Instead of waiting, yes, and it would be, you know, nice to see
some animation. But that's my personal opinion.

GROSS: My guest is singer Catherine Russell. We'll talk more and hear more of
her music after a break. This is FRESH AIR.

(Soundbite of music)

GROSS: Let's get back to our interview with singer Catherine Russell, recorded
after the release of her 2008 album "Sentimental Streak." She has a new one
called "Inside This Heart of Mine."

One of the things you did, this is before you started recording under your own
name, is you sang between acts at the comedy club, Catch a Rising Star.

Ms. RUSSELL: Yes.

GROSS: That strikes me like it might have been a real thankless job. How was
it?

Ms. RUSSELL: You know, it was my first kind of real, steady gig in New York,
and the drummer at that point, they had a trio there who used to play the
comics on and off. And the drummer called me up because I had been doing a few
other gigs with him, and he said, you know, why don't you come by? You know, I
think they would like you here. Come by and sing some blues, you know.

So I was scared to death, went the first night and was there for four years,
and actually, it was a great gig. And, you know, it really toughens up your
character, because they put me in the spot which was called the check spot.
Which meant that was the spot in the evening where they would be handing out
the checks. So I could sing louder than the people haggling over what they were
going to leave their wait staff and so forth, you know.

And they would also put me on after big names. Like if they had Eddie Murphy or
Robin Williams or somebody else come in of note - Jerry Seinfeld, all these
people, Rodney Dangerfield, all these people were coming there and try out
their new acts and so forth.

And so they'd always put the singer on after the stars because other comedians,
of course, didn't want to follow those people.

So it was really good. You know, it was good training. I did it six nights a
week for four years.

GROSS: But to sum up, you got the two worst spots, the spot when the waiters
were handing out the checks and after an act that was too tough for anyone else
to follow.

(Soundbite of laughter)

GROSS: So – and was this also the sexist comic era?

Ms. RUSSELL: No, it was – well, it's interesting. I'm not sure about that
because, you know, also people like Joy Behar, Susie Essman...

GROSS: Oh, right, yeah.

Ms. RUSSELL: Yeah, yeah, so they were there, and they were emceeing just as
much as – you know, everybody was really there every night. So we were all
hanging out together. So it – I didn't feel that.

GROSS: Well, I want to play another song that was written by your father, Luis
Russell.

Ms. RUSSELL: Yes.

GROSS: And this is "I've Got That Thing." It's really delightful.

(Soundbite of laughter)

GROSS: Say something about why you chose this song.

Ms. RUSSELL: I was looking through one of his early compilations, and I - you
know, I think it was the 1929 to 1930 compilation of Luis Russell Orchestra,
and I came upon this, and it just – it was kind of another "Call of the Freak"
situation where I thought this is funny. This is hilarious, you know. And the
track was funny, and I started laughing immediately.

And I thought wow, let's re-create this and have, you know, Howard Johnson(ph),
you know, come in on some tuba, and I – it just turned out so great because
Steven, you know, came in and played like this Dixieland, you know, made this
Dixieland arrangement of it. So...

GROSS: And this is Steven Bernstein who did the arrangements on the CD.

Ms. RUSSELL: Yes, yes.

GROSS: So this is Catherine Russell from "Sentimental Streak," a song written
by her father called "I've Got That Thing."

(Soundbite of song, "I've Got That Thing")

Ms. RUSSELL: (Singing) I don't care if the sun don't shine because I've got
that thing. (Unintelligible) will be riding(ph) the line 'til they get that
thing. Before, all the fellas wouldn't look at me. Now they all rave for my
company. I knew someday they would fall for me 'cuz I got that thing.

No one on Earth knows what it's all about 'til they get that thing. It seems
it's though all the world is out looking for that thing. It's a funny old
thing, that's without a doubt, makes everyone on Earth want to scream and
shout. Why I wouldn't whisper, I'd chat it up that I've got that thing.

GROSS: That's Catherine Russell from "Sentimental Streak" and her father Luis
Russell co-write the song we just heard.

You taught voice for a few years. Was there any particular piece of advice you
would give your students that really came from your experience that you think,
like, not all teachers would impart?

Ms. RUSSELL: The way I teach, I mean, I really stress enjoyment of, you know,
performance, also picking material that you can express yourself through. Don't
pick something that, you know, just because we love Aretha Franklin – we all
love Aretha Franklin - you know, but maybe that's not the person that you
should be picking, you know what I'm saying?

So I love Chaka Khan. As a vocalist, she's fabulous, but this is not my
particular style. So I would say it's very difficult for singers to find their
own style. So you really need to find songs that you can express yourself
through, you know, more so than hearing another artist and saying, oh, I want
to sound like them.

GROSS: Catherine Russell, thank you so much for talking with us.

Ms. RUSSELL: Thank you so much, Terry. I appreciate it.

GROSS: Catherine Russell, recorded in 2008. She has a new CD called "Inside
This Heart of Mine." You can hear three tracks from it on nprmusic.org. I'm
Terry Gross, and this is FRESH AIR.
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The Lyrics And Legacy Of Stephen Foster

TERRY GROSS, host:

This is FRESH AIR. I’m Terry Gross. Stephen Foster was perhaps the first full-
time professional songwriter. He made a living on sheet music sales. This was
back in the infancy of pop music in the 19th century, before the days of
records and radio.

Foster's role as one of the fathers of pop music is one reason why rock critic
Ken Emerson wrote a biography of Stephen Foster back in 1997. Now, he's
collected Foster's lyrics in the new book "Stephen Foster & Co." It includes
Foster's most popular songs like "Oh! Susanna," "Jeanie with the Light Brown
Hair," "My Old Kentucky Home," "Way Down Upon the Swanee River," and "Beautiful
Dreamer," as well as more obscure songs.

As we'll hear, Emerson is fascinated by the complicated racial meaning of
Foster's songs. Some of his songs are written in black dialect for blackface
minstrels and are now considered embarrassments like "Massa's in de Cold, Cold
Ground" and "Old Black Joe."

I spoke with Emerson when his biography of Foster, "Doo-dah!" was published. He
wanted to start with a recording of Foster's song "Old Folks at Home" performed
by Louis Armstrong and The Mills Brothers. Here's why.

Mr. KEN EMERSON (Rock critic): It's particularly interesting because obviously,
Louie Armstrong did not want to sing this song. And as you hear it, after a
brilliant trumpet solo, you'll hear increasingly caustic comments in his
inimitable voice. And it shows some of the ways in which Stephen Foster's
music, to this day, is a source of racial embarrassment and infuriation.

At the same time, the Mills Brothers are singing this in a very straightforward
way. They have no problems with the material and indeed, it's very sentimental
and nostalgic. And they do not trip over the word darkie, which obviously is no
longer a word that any of us would care to use, it doesn’t give them any
offense.

The double nature of this song shows the sort of divided legacy of Stephen
Foster, who after all, wrote the most famous songs of the 19th century that's
written by an American, that still, in many ways, define American culture. And
we have this dual, double divided feeling about the music that is exemplified
in this recording.

GROSS: Well, let's hear it. Louis Armstrong and the Mills Brothers.

(Soundbite of song, "Old Folks at Home")

THE MILLS BROTHERS (Singing group): (Singing) Way down upon the Swanee River,
far, far away, far away. There's where my heart is turning ever. There's where
the old folks stay. All up and down the whole creation, sadly I roam, still
longing for the old plantation and for the old folks at home.

All the world is sad and dreary everywhere I roam. Oh darkies, how my heart
grows weary far from the old folks at home.

Mr. LOUIS ARMSTRONG (Musician): Now brothers, it was way down upon the Swanee
River...

THE MILLS BROTHERS: (Singing) Far, far away.

Mr. ARMSTRONG: Mm, that's where my heart is turning ever.

THE MILLS BROTHERS: (Singing) That's where the old folks stay.

Mr. ARMSTRONG: Yowza. All up and down the whole creation.

THE MILLS BROTHERS: (Singing) Sadly he roam.

Mr. ARMSTRONG: You know one thing? My heart is still longing for the old
plantation.

THE MILLS BROTHERS: (Singing) And for the old folks at home.

Mr. ARMSTRONG: Now sing, brothers.

THE MILLS BROTHERS: (Singing) All the world is sad and dreary everywhere I
roam.

Mr. ARMSTRONG: Yeah, man.

THE MILLS BROTHERS: (Singing) Oh...

Mr. ARMSTRONG: Oh darkies, how my heart grows weary...

THE MILLS BROTHERS: (Singing) Far from the old folks at home.

Mr. ARMSTRONG: Well, looka here, we are far away from home. Yeah, man.

GROSS: Well, Stephen Foster certainly had a very complicated relationship to
African-Americans and African-American music. And I mean on the surface boy,
what a really hateful song the lyrics are. You know, sung from the point of
view of an African-American yearning to be back on that old plantation.

On the other hand, as you point out in your book, Stephen Foster really drew a
lot from black music and was inspired by black music. So at one time, his music
both condescends to and is inspired by African-Americans.

Mr. EMERSON: It sounds like rock n' roll today, doesn’t it?

GROSS: It was rock n' roll, you say, that connected you to Stephen Foster.

Mr. EMERSON: Well, I...

GROSS: Hard as that may be to believe.

(Soundbite of laughter)

Mr. EMERSON: Yeah. Well, I began my checkered career as a rock critic, and I
was always fascinated from the beginning, when did the impulse among white
teenagers to imitate blacks first begin? Obviously, from Elvis Presley to Beck,
that has been an important part of rock n' roll, but clearly, it didn’t begin
with Elvis Presley. And I sort of pressed it back, and thought, and listened
and learned more and more about the swing era and the Benny Goodman's and the
other nice boys from the Jewish projects of Chicago who fell in love with
swing.

And going back to the turn of the century, in songwriters such as George
Gershwin and Irving Berlin, who were deeply influenced by African-American
music and emulated it - not only in operas like in "Porgy and Bess," but in
Irving Berlin's first hit song "Alexander's Ragtime Band," which caused him to
be mislabeled The King of Ragtime, when obviously Scott Joplin deserved that
title. But it goes further back, to minstrelsy and blackface back in the 1830s
and 1840s, and to Stephen Foster and this weird form of American popular
entertainment, the first original American form of entertainment, that's the
minstrel show.

GROSS: The whole blackface era is both a disturbing and fascinating part of
American pop music history. What explanations have you’ve been able to come up
with for why white people performed in blackface and why that became so popular
in the 1800s?

Mr. EMERSON: Well, among other things, African-American represented, in a cruel
paradox to many whites - and still do, a certain kind of freedom; freedom from
bourgeois expectations, freedom from the regimentation of conventional
middleclass life. But what many whites don’t realize, and indeed, sometimes
African-American don’t realize, is that that alleged freedom is the result of
oppression and exclusion.

So that we always have this, or I shouldn’t say we, but at the root of both the
rock n' roll experience and of the minstrel experience, which was its
predecessor, is this tangled conflicted feeling of expressing both an
oppression and an affectionate and an admiration simultaneously.

GROSS: Let's play another one of his famous songs from the Southern tradition
he had no part of because he grew up in the Pittsburgh area.

(Soundbite of laughter)

GROSS: This is a song called "Old Kentucky Home," one of his really well-known
songs. Tell us about how he wrote this song.

Mr. EMERSON: Yeah. Well, this is a song that is very controversial till this
day. It is the state song of Kentucky and we're going to play a version of it,
which is performed nightly during the summer at the outdoor sound and light
theater extravaganza that is held in Bardstown, Kentucky, at my Old Kentucky
Home State Park.

And the song, as we listen to it for a while, you'll see, sort of epitomizes
the South of cavaliers and crinolines. And yet, ironically, it was actually
inspired by "Uncle Tom's Cabin," a deeply abolitionist novel. And the sense of
loss here, and the sense is because Uncle Tom is being sold down the river as
he was in the famous novel. So we have here again, as in the earlier recording
by Louis Armstrong, the sort of dual nature.

As a matter of fact, recently, several members of the African-American members
of the Yale Glee Club were scheduled to perform this song as part of a
celebration - a concert celebrating Charles Ives and the context of his music.
They refused to sing it. A copy of the song was burned at a meeting by members
of the glee club, and indeed, another song was substituted.

And ironically, here is a song that was inspired by a great abolitionist novel,
and which no less a leader then Frederick Douglass himself singled out as a
song that awakens the sympathies for the slaves in which anti-slavery
principals take root and flourish. So, like all of Foster's music, it's thick
with contradictions that, to this day, I think, are part of the American
experience.

GROSS: Let's hear the version you brought of "My Old Kentucky Home."

(Soundbite of song, "My Old Kentucky Home")

Unidentified Man: (Singing) The sun shines bright on the old Kentucky home.
'Tis summer, the children are gay; the corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the
bloom, while the birds make music all the day. The young folks roll on the
little cabin floor, all merry, all happy, and bright. By my hard times comes a-
knocking at the door, then my old Kentucky home, good night.

GROSS: You know, having heard "Old Kentucky Home" and "Old Folks at Home," you
know, you wonder, what was Stephen Foster attitude about slavery. He wrote
these songs while there still was slavery in the United States.

Mr. EMERSON: He certainly did. He was, by inclination and by family, he was a
Democrat. He was actually related by marriage to a James Buchanan, who was the
president before Abraham Lincoln, who was trying to hold together the Union at
any cost and would make any deal necessary to keep the South in. Foster was, by
inclination, what was then called a doughface Democrat. He was certainly not an
abolitionist. And this again is not unlike the contradictions that many
Americans feel.

On the one hand, his politics were definitely not abolitionist but his heart
and his feelings were very strongly sympathetic with the African-American
plight. This contradiction, I think, is the conflict between sentimentality and
self-interest is something that, I think, characterizes - has always
characterized Americans.

GROSS: My guest is Ken Emerson. He's the author of a biography of Stephen
Foster and has edited a new collection of Foster's lyrics called "Stephen
Foster and Co."

We'll hear more of my interview with him after a break.

This is FRESH AIR.

(Soundbite of music)

GROSS: Let's get back to the interview I recorded with Ken Emerson after the
publication of his biography of the 19th century songwriter, Stephen Foster.
Emerson has edited a new collection of Foster's lyrics.

You brought a version with you of "Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair." Who did
you bring singing it and what do you think of this recording?

Mr. EMERSON: Yeah, I think this is a very - an excellent recording. It's by the
operatic baritone, Thomas Hampson, who was come out a couple of years ago with
a CD of Foster's songs and has become a good friend and co-conspirator of mine.
I think what may interest people with this is that it was originally "I Dream
of Jenny with the Light Brown Hair." Jenny was the nickname of Stephen Foster's
wife to whom - with whom he had an unhappy on-again marriage. And he wrote this
when they were estranged, or - it's a little bit unclear - or possibly, just
gotten back together again. And he wrote it when he was living in Hoboken, New
Jersey, where he set up for about a year.

GROSS: Okay. Well, let's hear "Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair."

(Soundbite of song, "Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair")

Mr. THOMAS HAMPSON (Singer): (Singing) I dream of Jeanie with the light brown
hair. Born like a vapor on the summer air. I see her tripping where the bright
streams play, happy as the daisies that dance on her way. Many were the wild
notes her merry voice would pour. Many were the blithe birds that warbled them
o'er.

I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair. Floating like a vapor on the soft,
summer air.

GROSS: Ken Emerson, you know, I think that song is an example of a song that I
think people of my generation were born knowing. You didn’t necessarily like
the song, but you knew the song. I don’t know how you knew it, whether it's
because your parents sang it or it was just in the air, but you knew it, even
though it was not of your time. Why do you think songs like "Jeanie" have
endured the way they have?

Mr. EMERSON: I think that Stephen Foster really did create popular music as we
still recognize it today. He did it because he took together all these strands
of the American experience. That song is extremely Irish in its origins, just
as other songs are extremely African-American, just as others are extremely
Italian and operatic, or sometimes German, and even Czechoslovakian. For
instance, the beat of "Oh! Susanna" is the beat of a polka. He's clearly
effectively merged them into a single music. And I think he merged them in way
that appeals to the multicultural mongrel experience of America in its history
and culture.

GROSS: I know when I told a few people here that we were going to be talking to
you about your Stephen Foster biography, I got a couple of real eye rolls like,
ha, Stephen Foster – what, are they kidding? I can imagine the reaction you got
from friends in the rock world when you told them your book was going to be
about Stephen Foster.

Mr. EMERSON: Yeah. They thought I was taking leave of my senses.

(Soundbite of laughter)

Mr. EMERSON: You know, it's hardly, I mean - but on the other hand, I think
that we all have an interest. And I know that - I mean Greil Marcus talked to
me about this a little bit when I undertook this, and the way that Greil and
other serious students of rock n' roll - Bob Crisco(ph) would be another
example - all of us have been very interested in its origins and it’s roots.

GROSS: Mm-hmm.

Mr. EMERSON: I mean the way that we were taught that rock n' roll didn’t exist
until the 1950s, when suddenly in the person of Elvis Presley, rock, blues and
country music joined together - that just doesn’t work. The racial mixture and
complexity of our music, this goes back far longer.

GROSS: You’ve brought with you a record that I think will successfully bring
together your interest in rock music and your interest in Stephen Foster. Do
you want to introduce this for us?

Mr. EMERSON: Yes. Well, this is a song that actually was not a great hit during
his time. But in the last decade it's been his most frequently recorded song.
One reason I'm sure is because it's neither as saccharin as "Beautiful Dreamer"
or "I Dream of Jeanie." On the other hand, it does not have blackface lyrics
that are an embarrassment and an offense to today's ears. And that's "The Hard
Times Come Again No More," which has been recorded recently by Emmylou Harris,
by Bob Dylan; Thomas Hampson has recorded it, the McGarrigle Sisters, and I
know that my favorite version is the least known of them all, and that's by the
singer named Syd Straw. And this is a beautiful arrangement by Van Dyke Parks.

And the song I think became popular in the very late '80s when there was a
momentary recession at the end of Bush's term, the recession that resulted in
Bill Clinton's election. And it struck an economic nerve that I think is still
touchy in our insecure society today, where even if the stock market is
booming, we're all being downsized. So this is "Hard Times Come Again No More"
by Syd Straw.

GROSS: And before we hear it, let me say to you, Ken, thank you very much for
talking with us about your biography of Stephen Foster. And that biography is
called "Doo-dah!" - the author Ken Emerson. Here's Syd Straw.

Mr. EMERSON: Oh, thank you very much.

(Soundbite of song, "Hard Times Come Again No More")

Ms. SYD STRAW (Singer, Songwriter): (Singing) Let us pause in life's pleasures
and count its many tears while we all sup sorrow with the poor. There's a song
that will linger forever in our ears. Oh, hard times, come again no more. 'Tis
the song and the sigh of the weary. Hard times, hard times, come again no more.
Many days you have lingered all around my cabin door. Oh, hard times, come
again no more.

GROSS: Ken Emerson edited and annotated the new book "Stephen Foster & Co.:
Lyrics of America's First Great Popular Songs." You can read an excerpt on our
website, freshair.npr.org.

Our interview was recorded in 1997 after the publication of Emerson's biography
of Stephen Foster, "Doo-dah!"
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A Rich Satire About Street Art, Or Is It A Hoax?

TERRY GROSS, host:

There's a new art world documentary called "Exit through the Gift Shop," about
street artists and the ways in which their renegade work has ended up selling
for lots and lots of money.

The credited director is the renowned English street artist who calls himself
Banksy and whose identity is a matter of much conjecture. So is much else about
this movie.

Critic David Edelstein has a review.

DAVID EDELSTEIN: Okay, this is complicated. The documentary "Exit Through the
Gift Shop" is billed as directed by Banksy, B-A-N-K-S-Y, which is the pseudonym
for an incognito British street artist who's been widely denounced but even
more widely celebrated. But the original director, we're told, was a Frenchman
living in L.A. named Thierry Guetta, who set out to film guerrilla street
artists around the world, including the most elusive of them all, Banksy.

At some point, Banksy took over the camera and Thierry became the subject. How
that flip-flop happened and what happened next is the story of the film.

And it's a wonderful, often hilarious film, even if doubts about its
authenticity linger. The acid narration is by Welsh actor Rhys Ifans, who
explains how unemployed sad-sack Thierry became obsessed with videotaping
street artists at their clandestine, illegal labors. Among those artists were
Thierry's cousin Space Invader, known for affixing Space Invader video game
images to walls and bridges; Shepard Fairey, who'd break through to the
mainstream with his Obama posters; and finally Banksy himself.

Banksy appears on camera - sort of. He's in silhouette, under a hoodie, his
voice distorted. After he explains why Thierry's videotaping is important,
Thierry himself speaks.

BANKSY (Street Artist): Most (unintelligible) art is built to last like
hundreds of years. It's cast in bronze or it's oil on canvas. But street art
has a short lifespan, so it needed documenting. You know, we all needed someone
who knew how to use a camera.

Mr. THIERRY GUETTA (Filmmaker): I wanted to make a movie about street art, so I
wanted to get as much (unintelligible) as possible. It was like more than any
drugs to anybody. It was obsession.

(Soundbite of music)

EDELSTEIN: Like other New Yorkers, I lived for more than a decade staring at
buildings and subways covered with eyesore graffiti, so my view of so-called
street art is relativist: If it's good, it justifies the vandalism; if it
isn't, throw 'em in jail. But there's no doubt about Banksy's art. As shown in
Thierry's footage, his satirical assaults on politics, culture, and capitalism
in settings as various as the alleyways of London, the barrier wall in the West
Bank, and the rides of Disneyland are provocations of genius.

He became the director of this film, he says, when Thierry took more than a
thousand hours of tapes and edited them into a hash - a barrage of images with
no connective tissue - or, as Banksy puts it, the work of someone with mental
problems, an unimaginable nightmare.

Banksy decided to have a shot at that same raw footage. To get Thierry out of
his hair, he told the Frenchman to go back home to L.A. and try making his own
street art. This leads to the documentary's final section, in which Thierry
adopts the ridiculous nom de plum Mr. Brainwash and attempts to conquer L.A.
with a massive Mr. Brainwash exhibition of paintings and sculptures in the mode
of street art, which by then had become a hot commodity.

In this last part, Thierry transforms into a classic fool, both pretentious and
empty, a cross between Peter Sellers' Inspector Clouseau and his Chance the
Gardner from "Being There." Where Andy Warhol gave us a Campbell's soup can,
Mr. Brainwash gives us a Campbell's soup spray-can. Elvis Presley holds a
Fisher Price toy gun. Marilyn Monroe's Warholian silhouette is merged with
Barack Obama's. The work is derivative of the derivative, which makes it
irresistible to many would-be L.A. art-world hipsters, who turn out in droves.

Some reporters have speculated that Thierry is a fictional creation, an actor
in an elaborate Banksy prank that began years ago to expose the faddishness and
philistinism of the art world and that now reaches its climax with "Exit
Through the Gift Shop." It's very possible.

But if I and other enthusiasts have been galled(ph), I don't mind too much. An
early skeptic, New York Times writer Melena Ryzik hasn't gotten to the bottom
of it yet but makes the case for why the film's reality is, in one sense, moot.
She writes that the film, quote, "certainly asks real questions, about the
value of authenticity, financially and aesthetically, about what it means to be
a superstar in a subculture built on shunning the mainstream, about how
sensibly that culture judges and monetizes talent." Unquote.

If Banksy had to manufacture Mr. Brainwash to drive home his points, the satire
is too rich to make me cry foul. As far as I'm concerned, he can vandalize our
movie screens anytime.

GROSS: David Edelstein is film critic for New York magazine. You can download
podcasts of our show on our website, freshair.npr.org. And you can join us on
Facebook and follow us on Twitter at nprfreshair.
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Transcripts are created on a rush deadline, and accuracy and availability may vary. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Please be aware that the authoritative record of Fresh Air interviews and reviews are the audio recordings of each segment.