Melvin Gibbs - How Black Music Took Over the World (Basic Books/Hachette Book Group, 2026)

By Lee Rice Epstein

As a writer, researcher, musician, composer, and artist in the public sphere, Melvin Gibbs seems to have been working towards something like How Black Music Took Over the World for while now—a synthesizing work that brings together personal history, polemic, Black music made in and beyond America both under and in spite of a racialized cultural hierarchy, and the heartbreak and joy that come with learning and acknowledging this shared (like it or not) history. How that synthesis enacts itself on paper is one of Gibbs’s particular skills, his melding of register (as he lays out in the Prelude) replays his musical practice. An open reader who lets the book take over will be, I think inarguably, rewarded.

One of the key areas that’s under-discussed in literature, as far as I’m aware, which Gibbs both personally and academically goes over in the book is the Gullah-Geechee, the community rooted in the Sea Islands, along the Georgia and Florida coast. In the chapters “Stono’s Children” and “Changing Time With the Times,” Gibbs recounts his discovery of his Gullah heritage, then takes readers on a fascinating journey of the elemental components of rhythm, from ring shout, hambone, swing, and backbeat, to dub. What works pretty well in idea—merging registers, mixing personal memoir with rhythmic analysis—plays out (pardon the unintentional pun) wonderfully on paper. From an extended rhythmic analysis in “Stono’s Children,” Gibbs drops us right into a Harriet Tubman rehearsal. In a later chapter “Can’t Stop,” Gibbs breaks down a specific rhythm he’s dubbed the “lunch table cell,” then demonstrates its use in school lunch ad libs, James Brown’s “Soul Power,” Fela Kuti’s “Shakara,” and Led Zeppelin’s “When the Levee Breaks.” There’s a joy in taking all this in, and the infectious enthusiasm Gibbs seems to take in sharing the rhythms and ideas he’s studied and generated.

“The Music of Black Science” demonstrates the linkage from mythos developed through sharing stories to cosmologies that underpin systems of belief, math, science, and artistry. As a somewhat mystical rumination on West African frameworks, and what Gibbs describes as an ontology of Black music. The ensuing pages explore mythologies, fables, and physics through the lens of oral communication and visualization. It’s one of the chapters I’ve dipped back into multiple times, letting myself drift to and fro, which doesn’t seem to contradict Gibb’s intent.

However intentional, or not, How Black Music Took Over the World is in conversation with two crucial writers and researchers in this area, Race Music by Guthrie Ramsey and Blacksound by Matthew Morrison. Ramsey’s been in the space for over 30 years building up a compelling and provocative (for me, personally, I’m using this word in terms of “provoking intellectual thought and reflection”) body of work, and Morrison’s Blacksound is the kind of seminal work that hopefully becomes required reading for anyone seeking to understand the acoustical aspects of blackface minstrelsy that became the bedrock of the recording industry. Much like Gibbs’s assembly of evidence showing Black performance and foundational rhythms permeating styles and genres, Morrison demonstrates how Blacksound (re-)centers the ephemeral sonic and performance aesthetics that were capitalized on by early white adopters of vaudeville and dance. While no single author can be expected to cover all aspects of a topic, there are areas Gibbs elides or leaves out of his narrative that are readily picked up in these two—and, yes, many other—books, which an earnest reader is encouraged to also seek out.