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The passing of Don Cornelius this week was one of those milestone events that mark not just one man's tragic finale, but the end of a hugely important cultural era.
Cornelius was 75 when he apparently put a bullet in his brain in the early hours of Wednesday morning, but he was only 35 when he faced the cameras for the first time as host and producer of “Soul Train,” the R&B-oriented dance program which made him famous.
Cornelius had suffered from serious, painful health issues during the past few years, and endured a bitter divorce in 2009. (Ironically, his ex-wife, whom he reportedly hated, will receive hundreds of thousands of dollars from a pair of life insurance policies Cornelius left behind.)
As sad as his troubled ending was, Cornelius can be considered one of the most important figures in American pop music of the past half-century. Nowadays, when the charts are dominated by African-American performers and idioms, it is hard to remember a time not so long ago when the music world was much more segregated.
But in 1971, when “Soul Train” broadcast its first national episode, even some of the most adventurous Top 40 radio stations routinely avoided records by the likes of James Brown, Parliament and Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes because they were “too black.”
“Soul Train” was one of the powerful forces that transformed that world during its 35 years. For the first time, middle class and Midwestern teens were exposed on a weekly basis to artists like the Chi-Lites, the O'Jays and Gamble and Huff. It was the latter duo who contributed their 1974 #1 hit “TSOP (The Sound of Philadelphia)” to serve as “Soul Train's” best-known theme song (from 1973 'til 1975, and again between 1987 and 1993).
While Cornelius' aversion to hip-hop has been much commented upon in other places, it's hard to imagine how the genre could have gotten a foothold without the taste for funk, disco and R&B that “Soul Train” helped foster.
By 1990, the program was being parodied as “Old Train” by Keenan Ivory Wayans on “In Living Color,” but even that comedy program's “Fly Girls” (from the ranks of whom emerged both J.Lo and Carrie Ann Inaba) owed their existence to a mindset made broader by “Soul Train.”
In recent years, Cornelius had been trying to put together a “Soul Train” motion picture that would tell the behind-the-scenes tale of the pioneering program. One can only hope that in that medium or some other, the amazing story of a show that quite literally changed the face of American popular culture is someday told.
Although it is sad that Cornelius will not be around to see that happen, his work must be happily, joyously celebrated for transforming our music and the world in which it echoes still.
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Notes is supported by the Gay and Lesbian Fund, committed to building a better future for all of Colorado by supporting programs that keep kids in school.
Craven Lovelace produces Notes, a daily cultural history of popular music, for KAFM 88.1 Community Radio, kafmradio.org. You can visit cravenlovelace.com for more of his musings on the world of popular culture.
Cornelius was 75 when he apparently put a bullet in his brain in the early hours of Wednesday morning, but he was only 35 when he faced the cameras for the first time as host and producer of “Soul Train,” the R&B-oriented dance program which made him famous.
Cornelius had suffered from serious, painful health issues during the past few years, and endured a bitter divorce in 2009. (Ironically, his ex-wife, whom he reportedly hated, will receive hundreds of thousands of dollars from a pair of life insurance policies Cornelius left behind.)
As sad as his troubled ending was, Cornelius can be considered one of the most important figures in American pop music of the past half-century. Nowadays, when the charts are dominated by African-American performers and idioms, it is hard to remember a time not so long ago when the music world was much more segregated.
But in 1971, when “Soul Train” broadcast its first national episode, even some of the most adventurous Top 40 radio stations routinely avoided records by the likes of James Brown, Parliament and Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes because they were “too black.”
“Soul Train” was one of the powerful forces that transformed that world during its 35 years. For the first time, middle class and Midwestern teens were exposed on a weekly basis to artists like the Chi-Lites, the O'Jays and Gamble and Huff. It was the latter duo who contributed their 1974 #1 hit “TSOP (The Sound of Philadelphia)” to serve as “Soul Train's” best-known theme song (from 1973 'til 1975, and again between 1987 and 1993).
While Cornelius' aversion to hip-hop has been much commented upon in other places, it's hard to imagine how the genre could have gotten a foothold without the taste for funk, disco and R&B that “Soul Train” helped foster.
By 1990, the program was being parodied as “Old Train” by Keenan Ivory Wayans on “In Living Color,” but even that comedy program's “Fly Girls” (from the ranks of whom emerged both J.Lo and Carrie Ann Inaba) owed their existence to a mindset made broader by “Soul Train.”
In recent years, Cornelius had been trying to put together a “Soul Train” motion picture that would tell the behind-the-scenes tale of the pioneering program. One can only hope that in that medium or some other, the amazing story of a show that quite literally changed the face of American popular culture is someday told.
Although it is sad that Cornelius will not be around to see that happen, his work must be happily, joyously celebrated for transforming our music and the world in which it echoes still.
---------------------------
Notes is supported by the Gay and Lesbian Fund, committed to building a better future for all of Colorado by supporting programs that keep kids in school.
Craven Lovelace produces Notes, a daily cultural history of popular music, for KAFM 88.1 Community Radio, kafmradio.org. You can visit cravenlovelace.com for more of his musings on the world of popular culture.
