Musicologist Cory Hunter identifies a notable contemporary shift in the century-old musical form.
Several of the most powerful and beloved voices in the history of American popular music got their start singing gospel. Aretha Franklin, the 鈥渜ueen of soul.鈥 Donna Summer, the 鈥渜ueen of disco.鈥 Little Richard, who played a profound role in the early development of rock and roll. Diana Ross, who as the leader of the Supremes, helped shape the 鈥淢otown Sound.鈥 Mavis Staples, who never stopped singing gospel鈥攁nd is a household name. And many more.
Gospel is a major American art form, with scholars and musicians generally pointing to the 1940s to the 1970s as its golden age. That period coincided with the peak decades of the Great Migration of African Americans from the South to the North; with the civil rights movement; and with the growth of the recording industry.
In recent decades, gospel music has continued to attract listeners and boasts several commercially successful artists with global followings. But the music has evolved as its top artists have sought to grow their audiences beyond the Black church-going communities who have traditionally been the primary consumers of gospel music.

That evolution is the subject of research by scholar, minister, and gospel musician 鈥06E. Hunter holds a joint appointment as an assistant professor of musicology at the 人妻少妇专区鈥檚 as well as in the in the School of Arts & Sciences. Professor Hunter is also Reverend Hunter, affiliated with Aenon Missionary Baptist Church in Rochester, and an Eastman-trained vocalist and gospel choir director.
鈥淎frican American gospel music has traditionally articulated the existential concerns of the African American community,鈥 he writes in published earlier this year in The Musical Quarterly. Since roughly the turn of the new century, however, Hunter finds that 鈥渁 theology of racial oneness鈥 has come to pervade the music of some of gospel鈥檚 most visible and commercially successful Black artists. That theology holds that racial inclusion is God鈥檚 mandate even within the Black church鈥攁 call, in fact, to do away with racial associations or divisions within any Christian house of worship.
The shift Hunter identifies predates the election of Barack Obama as president, an event that seemed briefly to signify a turning point in the nation鈥檚 history of racial discrimination. It has persisted through the Black Lives Matter movement, now almost a decade old.
The persistence of racial oneness theology in recent times is surprising, Hunter says, only if one has been immersed entirely in secular society. Hunter, who is a critic of racial-oneness theology in gospel music, finds part of the explanation for the theology in changes within the Black church going back decades. Those changes include a greater emphasis on individual responsibility and uplift than prior to, and during, the civil rights movement.
There鈥檚 an economic explanation, too. Racial-oneness theology, by appealing beyond Black audiences, enables Black artists to achieve greater commercial success than they would relying on traditional gospel themes.
Or does it? It seems intuitive鈥攁nd yet Hunter finds evidence that undercuts that assumption.
Hunter: an upbringing steeped in music and the Black church
Hunter grew up steeped in music and the Black church. He calls the church of his youth 鈥淏aptist, then 鈥楤apticostal,鈥 then non-denominational鈥濃攁 familiar trajectory in the recent evolution of American Protestantism.
His talent for singing was apparent at an early age. In New York City, where he spent part of his youth, he auditioned successfully for the Boys Choir of Harlem. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 know what the Boys Choir of Harlem was, but I knew it was a big deal,鈥 Hunter says. 鈥淥f course, I was nervous out of my mind.鈥
As a member of what was then a world-renowned choir (it disbanded in 2007) he traveled across North America and Europe, performing with the group on prestigious stages and on TV. In Charlotte, North Carolina, where his family later moved, he attended the city鈥檚 Northwest School of the Arts, a magnet school where he dabbled in musical theater as well as acting. After high school, he decided to pursue formal vocal training and headed to Eastman.
For a time, he wanted to sing opera, the focus of the voice program at Eastman and at most university music schools. But there was a part of him, he says, that thought, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know if I鈥檓 really called to this genre, because it didn鈥檛 always make me feel at home.鈥
He did feel called to preach鈥攁nd had the voice, stage presence, and intellect to pursue the vocation formally. After Eastman, he entered Yale Divinity School, which he chose for its Institute of Sacred Music. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 want to go full throttle into divinity, because I still had that musical side I wanted to pursue,鈥 he says. 鈥淚 felt like there was the best place where I could do both.鈥
He sang gospel in New Haven churches. Meanwhile, during weekly music colloquia at the Institute of Sacred Music, he noticed there wasn鈥檛 much attention paid to gospel. In fact, there wasn鈥檛 much scholarship on it. 鈥淚 saw there was a gap in the literature that I could help rectify,鈥 he says. After completing his master of divinity degree, he entered the doctoral program in music at Princeton.

The rise of racial-oneness theology in Black gospel music
Hunter鈥檚 recent article grows out of a portion of his Princeton dissertation, a study that dealt with a broader set of changes in gospel music. In both, he argues that the rise of racial-oneness theology in gospel came about gradually and then accelerated around 2000, when it became the subject of entire albums by some of the genre鈥檚 best known and most commercially successful Black artists. Hunter cites several examples: Kirk Franklin鈥檚 Kirk Franklin Presents 1NC (One Nation Crew) in 2000; Kurt Carr鈥檚 One Church in 2005; and Donnie McClurkin鈥檚 We All Are One and Israel Houghton鈥檚 The Power of One, both in 2009.
鈥淣ever before have this many high-selling gospel artists released music projects in such close temporal proximity (all within the first decade of the current century) representing the same theme of oneness,鈥 Hunter writes.
In his dissertation, Hunter analyzed the works of all four artists, but in the Musical Quarterly focuses exclusively on McClurkin and Houghton. McClurkin, born in 1959, was raised in the world鈥檚 largest Black Pentecostal denomination. A pastor in Hempstead, New York, as well as a Grammy Award鈥搘inning artist, he reached a national audience with his own syndicated radio broadcast, The Donnie McClurkin Show. Houghton, born in 1971 as the biracial offspring of a white mother and a Black father, rose to fame with his 2004 album Live from Another Level. His cross-racial appeal grew when he became worship leader at Lakewood Church in Houston, the largest megachurch in the nation, led by white televangelist Joel Osteen.
McClurkin has been explicit in his rejection of traditional gospel themes. Hunter notes that following the release of We Are All One, the artist said: 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 want anything on my latest offering, We All Are One, to reflect suffering or climbing up that mountain in the way to which traditional Black gospel is accustomed. I wanted to luxuriate in and celebrate the greatness of God.鈥
Houghton, Hunter notes, has described himself as a 鈥淏lack kid who grew up in a white family in a Hispanic neighborhood.鈥 His biracial background, combined with his insistence that he eschews all categories, has won him a reputation as an artist who has merged traditional Black gospel with the largely white category referred to as Christian contemporary. In doing so, his admirers argue, he has rendered both categories obsolete. Houghton, Hunter notes, has declared in radio interviews that his music 鈥渉as no specific color or style to it.鈥

Hunter argues that the rise of the three interconnected movements鈥擯entecostalism, charismatic Christianity, and the megachurch鈥攈ave all been central to the development of gospel鈥檚 racial-oneness theology. All three either arose or accelerated after the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s in which the Black church was a central, and arguably the central force. Moreover, all have contributed to an unease in many contemporary Black churches, Hunter argues, with any discussion of systemic or structural racism.
鈥淚n many Black churches, people are uncomfortable with talk about systemic racism,鈥 he says. 鈥淭here鈥檚 a mindset that, 鈥楾his is not for here; we鈥檙e talking about the Lord, and the goodness of God.鈥欌 In addition, Hunter notes that beginning roughly in the 1980s, Black churches warmed to the prosperity gospel. In stark contrast to the communitarian Christianity that propelled the civil rights movement, the individualistic prosperity gospel, rooted in white Pentecostalism, expresses the notion that God rewards the faithful with material wealth and good health. It鈥檚 an appeal to individual rather than community empowerment, Hunter argues鈥攁nd obscures structural inequities.
The church of his youth was among those to come under the sway of this type of thinking. That鈥檚 one reason Hunter says he was a graduate student before he came to understand how structural forces can mete out social and economic power. Growing up, 鈥渋t was never talked about in church,鈥 he says. At Eastman in the early 2000s, where he and his classmates in vocal performance were immersed in practicing their art, 鈥渘o one was talking about it.鈥
White message, Black sound, mixed results
As a musicologist, Hunter is in the business of recognizing sonic patterns and their origins and evolution. Despite the claims of McClurkin and Houghton to the contrary, Hunter finds in both a heavy reliance on Black musical traditions. McClurkin performs the title track of the We All Are One album with 鈥渢he quintessential Black gospel tenor sound鈥濃攁n array of timbres within a single song, from growls and rasps to full belting, Hunter writes. Moreover, he argues, McClurkin relies on the rhetorical cadences and phrases originated and honed among Black preachers in Black churches.
Houghton incorporates elements from around the globe liberally. But ultimately, Hunter argues, 鈥渄eeper analytical engagement with Houghton鈥檚 music reveals that the oneness message fueling his work is undergirded by a stylistic approach that is heavily entrenched in African American musical and rhetorical traditions.鈥 That approach includes the same variety in timbre that鈥檚 a signature of African American vocal tradition; a syncopated bass line and percussive patterns drawn from funk; and words and phrases from Black vernacular.
At first glance, it might seem as though McClurkin and Houghton are simply melding musical traditions鈥攁n ordinary practice in an interconnected world. But the sonic signatures of Black gospel were created in a particular historical context, infused with a particular meaning. 鈥淭he rhetorical cadence of the Black preacher has historically been a sonic signifier of Black empowerment鈥攆rom slavery to reconstruction, to the civil rights movement鈥攁nd a mobilizing agent for social transformation,鈥 he writes.

To take musical innovations that took shape in the context of racial oppression鈥攁nd employ them, without acknowledging their roots, in music designed to elide racial division鈥斺渞isks erasing gospel music鈥檚 Black roots,鈥 Hunter says.
But if more fans and revenue are the goal, is the approach working?
Hunter suggests the evidence is mixed. Looking at albums released in the 2000s, when iPods and mp3 players, which encouraged the purchase of individual songs, were relatively new and album sales still a major means of purchasing music, Hunter makes some provocative findings.
As of the spring of 2018, McClurkin鈥檚 2009 We Are All One had total sales of just under 150,000, while the most recent recording before that one鈥Psalms, Hymns, and Spiritual Songs, from 2005鈥攈as achieved Platinum status (sales of over one million). The spread of iPods and mp3 players grew substantially in the four years separating those two albums. Yet data from other, similar Black artists suggests that changes in the technology of music consumption cannot account for the stark decline in album sales among established gospel artists who turned to the theme of racial oneness. Among the eight albums Kirk Franklin released between 1993 and 2005, all but two achieved platinum status. Kirk Franklin and the Family Christmas, from 1995, reached gold (500,000 copies). The worst performing album was Kirk Franklin Presents 1NC (One Nation Crew), a 2000 release built around the theme of racial oneness that sold just over 300,000 copies. Franklin would resume his platinum status with his next two albums.
To explain what might seem counterintuitive, Hunter points to a perennial problem in the American popular music industry: Black artists face barriers in reaching a white marketplace, even when they tailor the music to that market. In attempting to break into the white Contemporary Christian music category, Black artists have not had access to the same promotional infrastructure as white ones.
Hunter ends with this frank assessment: 鈥淚n their efforts to render conventional racial categories obsolete, artists like Israel Houghton and Donnie McClurkin re-inscribe Black particularity through their musical and rhetorical techniques, while leaving unacknowledged the potential of a Black sound and the Black church to facilitate the very racial and ethnic unity they so passionately advocate.鈥
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