It is unfortunate that a book entitled "American Music" can spend a painfully small effort discussing influence of black musicians. The great orchestral works drawing on African spirituals prophesied by Dvorak didn't materialize, their promise headed into other genres of jazz and rock, eventually dominating popular music. But there is a dialogue between classical and popular idioms that was extremely influential on American composers. Gershwin and Copland come to mind. Copland had to go to Paris to fall under the spell of jazz, but the influence of jazz-influenced European composers (Debussy, Ravel, Milhaud, Stravinsky, etc.) back on their American counterparts seems to bring things in full circle.
  The African influence on Ives is an interesting story. Ives was proud of his family's staunch abolitionist history: his grandparents supported the Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute, an industrial school for minorities, and after the Civil War, Charles' parents basically adopted a black boy. Ives was exposed to ragtime and spirituals early on and these, along with Stephen Foster tunes which seem to be equated with minority tunes, contribute to Ives' grab grab of tunes representing the American experience. These are especially poignant in "St. Gaudens in Boston Common," Ives' tribute to one of the Union's first African-American regiments, and mingle with other images of Americana.
  Alex Ross very interestingly suggests in The Rest is Noise that a principle reason for innovation of the black community was the lack of opportunities in the classical establishment; in fact, white composers were experiencing their own discrimination as the urban audiences were only interested in hearing European fare. This in turn led American composers to find their own routes to recognition, whether it was by exploring radical dissonance (Ives and Ruggles), simplicity (Thomson and Copland) or a wedding of black and white styles (Gershwin).
  Musically I was struck by the beautiful impressionism of Ives' "The Housatonic at Stockbridge." There is ravishing water imagery and Ives has arrived by means apart from the French. A lazy English horn melody is surrounded by a collage of gently swirling eddys and quietly burbling rapids before reaching a memorable climax. Ives does not rely on sensual, jazz-influenced harmonies of the Impressionists, but achieves a remarkable affect from exploring color and quiet nuance.
  Although Ives published The Concord in 1920, it languished until Kirkpatrick vigorously promoted it after 1939. Ives became especially celebrated after this iconic 1949 recording:

The Concord Sonata is an uncompromising portrait of the great literary movement through Ives' unique perspective and is unquestionably one of the greatest American compositions.

Though I had known of Griffes as "the American master of impressionism," this was my first exploration of the composer's work. His music is unquestionably beautiful, interesting, and well-constructed, nothing about it sounds American. Griffes' music does not sound exactly like Debussy's, but very similiar. I found myself wondering what he was doing in a discussion surrounded by pioneers who labored to find a voice for America. What is American about Griffes? Is mastery of a European model really so admirable? America is indeed a melting pot and we have forged a heterogeneous culture from our roots. How important is it to find a unique national identity? Does America's searching diminish the achievement of those who turned elegantly and skillfully back to Europe but developed little that was novel?