In their 1997 journal, Jane Duran and Earl Stuart define rhythmic concrescence as, "when the constant, symbiotic aspects of an African-derived rhythmical plexus are effected interactively." I recently learned this term in my Afro-American Music Literature class. At its core, the phrase illustrates the process of when a listener no longer hears a song as individual parts but processes the musical piece as a whole. Consequently, it is the driving force of 70's funk music. Too long, didn't read: Rhythmic Concrescence = "funkiness." My name is Hannah Jackson, I am a junior music business major studying at Howard University and an aspiring music researcher. While my mother raised us on Gospel music and 90's slow jams, my dad's listening imparted the 70s midwestern Black music experience thoroughly. Funk is one of my favorite music genres, all credit to my father. He was born in Georgia but raised in Ohio, the birthplace of the many lauded soul and funk acts we honor today. Groups like "The O'Jays" from Canton, "Lakeside" or "The Ohio Players" from Dayton, and let's not forget: "The Isley Brothers" from Cincinnati. Growing up, my dad talked about garage bands: conglomerates of musicians of that put their musical prowesses together to practice whatever songs possible. These groups entered talent shows, played at recreational centers, and perfected their craft. This was the driving force that pioneered the midwest 70s funk tradition. But what makes funk music actually "funky"? In short, it boils down to rhythmic concrescence. Rhythmic concrescence is the force that so seamlessly mends the aspects of this genre together. For example: a band might start with a simple, recurring baseline, and then add a quick piano riff. Then, a drummer might come in to aid in keeping tempo, with maracas to fill in percussive gaps and horns to slide in glaringly. These seemingly small parts mesh together to form a concrete musical idea. This is the heart of funk music. No longer does the listener hear the piece in individual instruments or phrases, but instead, perceives the piece in its triumphant, larger-than-life, funky glory. Why does this matter? As an aspiring music researcher, I find rhythmic concrescence fascinating. The concept so beautifully mirrors Black American heritage and strength. African Americans have a long history of creating change when standing together. Take the Montgomery Bus Boycott for example. For 381 days, droves of Black Americans refused to give their money to the Montgomery Bus System. This protest eventually toppled this bus system, giving extreme headway in the Civil Rights movement. While on individual levels, it may not have seemed like much, as a whole, Black Americans stood united to produce change in the world. I find it amazing how Black music imitates Black culture, society, and grit. Black American musical tradition is one not widely understood outside of its community. From 18th-century work songs and 19th-century minstrel pieces to 1930s blues laments and 1990s message rap, our music has often engaged in both social commentary and proactive functional use in our community. Winning this scholarship would greatly help alleviate the financial burden I have entering my last year of undergrad in the Fall. After graduation, I look to enter the field and continue to research the music of my heritage, one so pivotal to the thriving industries of the United States and Western culture in general. Source - Duran, Jane, and Earl Stewart. “Toward an Aesthetic of Black Musical Expression.” Journal of Aesthetic Education, vol. 31, no. 1, 1997, pp. 73–85. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/3333473. Accessed 16 Apr. 2024.