20. The Cleveland Colored Quintet

Good Bye Pharaoh. In America, white interest in black music has always centered on recognition and distance. The origins, history and social status of black Americans produced music both familiar and remote, thoroughly American but not the America experienced by whites. That tension spread black ideas into mainstream popular music, most famously in the guise of jazz and rock ‘n’ roll. This movement is often portrayed as singular and decisive, yet is really one turn in a lengthy back-and-forth between all the peoples of the New World. Black music in America was as much shaped by as shaped its musical surroundings.


For the dominant culture, in this case whites, the price of dominance is cultural anxiety. Blacks are derided for poor social accomplishments and integration but lauded for a sharper cultural edge. The two are intimately related- it is often precarious social standing that produces musical innovation that is truly disruptive rather than merely progressive. Today, at least for middle class whites, there is a nervousness that affluence and authenticity are at odds. It is all nonsense, of course, but palpable nonetheless.

But what happens when black musicians self-consciously take up elements of white musical sensibility? There is the case of The Cleveland Colored Quintet.

Rummaging through a used record store in Las Vegas, of all places, I came across two 78s by the Cleveland Colored Quintet on the Sacred label. The group’s name and track titles suggested material in the tradition of the early gospel artists, such as the Fisk Jubilee Quartet. Indeed, once I heard the records, such as On the Jericho Road and Reign Massah Jesusit was clear that these pieces were antiquated even at the time of recording- Sacred Records did not begin production until after World War II. I was intrigued and looked for more information. 

The Cleveland Colored Quintet (CCQ) fall into the category of black musicians who made early recordings but whose music was judged “not black enough” to be included in the first three editions of the landmark Blues & Gospel Records discography. The CCQ were a male vocal group with a repetoire that spanned both African-American spirituals and late nineteenth and early twentieth century white religious fare. Formed in 1914, the group enjoyed some success touring the north east United States and Canada with various preachers. The CCQ made about twenty recordings between 1923 and 1926 in Columbia’s Personal series, for sale at church gatherings. The recordings appear under the name of The C. & M. A. Gospel Singers or Quintette, referring to The Christian & Missionary Alliance, the church group the members were associated with. The CCQ did not record commercially before the 1940s.

The 1920s recordings were reissued on the Document label in 1997, but the notes make no reference to the Sacred Records discs I had found. Recorded too late for the Blues & Gospel Records 1890-1943 discography, the CCQ’s subsequent records turn up in the companion volume The Gospel Discography 1943-1970 by Cedric J. Hayes and Robert Laughton. The latter lists 28 sides, all recorded in 1947, on Sacred and a number of other labels, all issued commercially. The earlier discography makes no reference to later recordings, such allusion being standard practice, and the later discography is silent on earlier ones. The group’s two names may be to blame- the 1920s recordings using the church affiliation, and the later ones The Cleveland Colored Quintet. According to Colin J. Bray, the author of the notes for the Document CD, the second was the group’s “correct” name.


The abrupt end to recordings in 1947 appears to have been due to the sudden death, on stage, of Alexander E. Talbert, the group’s bass. This is a reminder of the group’s vintage. The men were likely born in the 1880s, and appear quite elderly in a publicity photograph from the 1940s. Some may have been born even earlier, judging by what appears to be a 1920s photograph used for the cover of the Document CD. This explains the CCQ’s devotion to an earlier style of gospel singing, honed by the group before the race record explosion in the 1920s.

Prior to that period, much white interest in black music in America was a matter of “refining” the latter in the manner of the former- harmonizing spirituals for the parlor piano and the like. But the effort was not one-way. The original Fisk Jubilee Singers from the 1870s embarked on a concert tour to raise funds for the recently founded yet impoverished Fisk University in Nashville, Tennessee, an institution designed to advance higher education for freed slaves after the Civil War. The Singers found most success with renderings of old-time religious music molded by slaves from scraps of white Christianity and African legacy. In a climate of newly-found dignity for blacks, the combination of “roughly-hewn” spirituals and well-educated singers harmonizing in the European concert tradition seemed most fitting, from the perspective of many blacks as well as whites. The minstrel show, the most prominent portrayal of black music in America at the time, was generally much less positive and nuanced.

The Singers sparked a “jubilee craze” raising large sums for the University and prompting many imitators, both genuine and otherwise. Relatively few such performers made recordings prior to 1920, but a later group of Fisk singers, the Fisk Jubilee Quartet, first recorded in 1909, was positioned as a valuable exclusive for the Victor Company. According to estimates by Tim Brooks, author of Lost Sounds: Blacks and the Birth of the Recording Industry, the Fisks sold two million records over a decade, on both Victor and Columbia, and were probably the second biggest-selling black recording artists prior to 1920, after Bert Williams.

In the 1920s, with the surprise success of early jazz records and blues singers such as Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith, the “jubilee” sound began to seem old-fashioned. The appearance of country blues records later in the decade further sidelined the jubilee style. All these developments turned the jubilee logic on its head, finding success with less “managed” black voices, with any non-black influence more marginal. The gospel sound evolved too, with more personal lyrics, more complex and forceful vocals and more contemporary music.The 1930s saw a new breed of quartets, such as The Heavenly Gospel Singers, Golden Gate Quartet and Dixie Hummingbirds.

So it perhaps not surprising, but intriguing nonetheless, that even by the 1940s, the CCQ were still firmly in the jubilee vein. The 1947 records make no attempt to keep with the times, and may have traded on a nostalgia among older folks. Indeed, some of the CCQ’s 1947 recordings appear to be one of only a few times certain pieces were captured commercially post-war. What I’m most interested in is how groups like the CCQ have been viewed since their demise. These artists go entirely against the grain of how black music in America has been regarded, by blacks and especially by whites, who emphasize what is perceived as primitive, earthy, raw, etc. Indeed, much mainstream western popular music since the 1950s is premised on judicious use of this black American “edge.” Widespread white adoption of black musical features is either praised or taken for granted, whereas black “imitation” of whites is often looked askance at.

The fact that groups like the CCQ performed black and white music in equal measure is often seen to imply that the performers were “too middle class” to be sufficiently in touch with their roots, in thrall to white values, trying to please white audiences or some such argument. Of course, the CCQ’s “colored” label is one more reason to for us to feel uneasy. Given the reaction, you might think it inconceivable that the CCQ members actually appreciated both styles or had legitimate reasons to want to appeal to different audiences. Just as white middle class affluence and U.S. industrialization prompted a longing for a simpler past, so the constrained existence of most blacks prompted interest in progress and sophistication. Jazz, city blues and modern gospel represented such change, but so did more direct black fascination with non-black styles.

One could argue that groups like the CCQ were actually remarkably well-rounded and pioneering, sidestepping rigid racial divisions and embracing musical diversity. The contributions of middle class blacks like the CCQ should be regarded as just as significant and interesting as those of their more numerous less fortunate bretheren. For the prevailing culture to ultimately value black music as a symptom of second class status, and dismiss other black paths as suspect, puts a disturbing slant on our artistic fascinations.

The likes of the CCQ were grudgingly included in the latest edition of Gospel & Blues Records 1890-1943. Some of this music does sound somewhat staid to modern ears, used to “raw” as the standard, but I think we are far from a full assessment of early black recording artists that tried to transcend as well as embrace the status quo.

I’ve uploaded The Cleveland Colored Quartet’s Reign Massa JesusLet me know what you think.

Classics #3- Malay Malay Oya by Devar Surya Sena & Ensemble

This is my first post about a 78 rpm record in my collection (Malay Malay Oya). U-PM works to promote wider interest in old recordings of world music, regardless of format; and is the business of bringing perspective to the wealth of reissues already in our midst rather than just adding to the heap. But there is an undeniable thrill in giving life to a stunning old record that appears never to have been reissued.

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This 78 is also notable in that it hails from Sri Lanka, then Ceylon, a country very rarely featured on compilations of old ethnic recordings. There are no entries for Sri Lanka on Excavated Shellac, and very few references online to 78s from the country. In my 25 years of collecting, I’ve encountered only a handful of old recordings on any format from this part of the world.

This record, Malay Malay Oya by Devar Surya Sena and Ensemble comes from the dominant Sinhalese ethnic group. Devar Surya Sena (1899-1981) was born Herbert Charles Jacob Pieris, the son of Sir James Pieris, one of Ceylon’s most prominent politicians. The name “Pieris” stems from Portugal’s part-colonization of the country in the 16th and 17th centuries. By the 19th century, the Pieris family, in naming, education and aspirations had embraced the mores of the British colonists, even while Sir James worked for the country’s independence. Herbert was sent to boarding school in England from the age of 12, then studied at the University of Cambridge. In 1923, he married Winifred de Silva, from another prominent Ceylon family. Theirs was said to be the first Ceylon society wedding in London.

Herbert was torn between his parent’s ambitionIMG_0560 (2) that he should have a brilliant legal and political career, and his love of music. He studied for a time at the Royal College of Music in London. After working for some years as a barrister, Herbert and Winifred decided to return home. The case for greater self-government was building, and a new sense of Ceylonese identity and appreciation for local culture. Herbert and Winifred went so far as to change their names- becoming Deva Surya Sena and Nelun Devi. In 1931, after much lobbying, not least by Sena’s father, Britain granted Ceylon greater autonomy and gave citizens, women included, the right to vote. Independence did not come until 1948.

In 1928, Sena gave a concert to the elite of Colombo, devoting the first half to operatic arias and the like from Europe, but reserving the second for the music of Ceylon. According to Sena’s own account, this was the “first time in history” Ceylonese music had been performed in such a setting. The recital was a great success, persuading Sena to dedicate himself to showcasing Ceylonese music to a wider audience, particularly a Western audience. He conducted research across the island, gave concerts internationally, led radio programs and made records. His appreciation of both local and Western culture, his musical ability, and proper English accent made him a particularly effective ambassador.

I am unsure whether the apparent absence of any contemporary reissue of Sena’s recordings is an indication that he has been largely forgotten or that his approach has been called into question. While Sena was accomplished on a number of instruments central to Ceylonese music, he also made recordings accompanied by piano and violin. No doubt blurring the lines between Western and Ceylonese music was a tactic to engage Europeans, although it is certainly true that much so-called “traditional” creativity is precisely the appropriation of foreign influences. The western violin indisputably found new life on the Indian subcontinent. The competing instincts of preservation and improvement lie at the heart of many folk music revival efforts of the period.

The piece included here, Malay Malay Oya, features vocal and violin that “sound Ceyonlese”, but piano that “sounds Western.” Today’s penchant for “raw” and “primitive” old recordings casts suspicion on anything refined or somehow tampered with. It would be wise to remember that “authenticity” is vulnerable to fashion and misreadings of how culture and change actually work. Sena’s blending of styles and instruments is really no different from various musical amalgams lauded today.

I find this piece thoroughly charming and arresting, just the effect Sena intended. The arrangement makes sense in its historical context, and given Sena’s background and ambition, and should be considered not redacted. Malay is said to be a boatman’s song, chronicling the sights and sounds of the river. The other side of the record might be judged more “authentic”, but is not as strong as Side 1, in my view.

I am not aware of any CD reissue of Sena’s work. In 2008, the Devar Surya Sena Trust published a compilation of Sena’s writing as Music of Sri Lanka. A CD accompanied the book but contains only five tracks, which appear to have been drawn from radio broadcasts and are sub-par in terms of sound quality. If anyone knows of a CD of Sena’s 78s, I’d be grateful to hear about it.