I’d long dreamt of Detroit. It was that three of my idols; Madonna, Eminem and Iggy Pop hailed from the Motor City. In fact, Detroit’s contribution to pop history is enormous. It’s the home of techno and, of course …Motown. So in 2015, standing in the hallowed halls of Studio A, Dad and I pinched ourselves. Based in LA now, the original Motown headquarters are a museum for soul nerds like us.
We heard glamorous tales of Berry Gordy and the Temptations, saw footage of The Supremes at finishing school and stood in front of glitter jumpsuits worn by the Jackson 5. Most notable, though, was our tour guide’s performance. Yes… performance. Slick and professional, this was more than just a gallery tour. Our stunning host, an eloquent, coiffured woman in her 50s, was an expert on every detail of the famous label. A natural showperson, she spoke with the easy charm that knowing your subject brings. At times, she crooned phrases of gospel, soul and doo-wop. Her tones were as caramel as any Motown great…and I was suddenly struck by the unfathomable depth of talent in America.
I’m a singer too, see. I was quite good, once. My aptitude became clear as a kid and later, I chased a life on stage. When my star didn’t rise as planned, failure festered into bitter despair. My trip to the states was the start of my climb from that depressed pit and my Motown epiphany, the first leg-up. It was OK to not be famous. I was no more deserving than my guide and she had no Grammys so…why should I? And she’s just one voice. America gave us the blues and every subsequent iteration of modern music. It’s a nation buzzing with mellifluous songs. Imagine counting all their church choirs, each with their star soloist. In a nation of 327 million, picture mile-long lineups of serious, Idol contenders. Imagine each would-be Broadway star, giving everything at the cattle-call, only to be told “NEXT!”. If all America’s beautiful, deserving and little-heard voices formed a choir, the decibels could rip a hole in space-time.
By world standards, my life as a white Australian is easy. From this cosy nook, one forgets how vast the world is. I do believe this country is finally growing into something characterful and diverse…but the Australia of my youth was all but a cultural desert. If you could sing, dance or pull off any non-sport-related skill, you stood out and it felt like a big deal…but in a world so teeming with talent, that platinum-worthy voices are babysitting visitors to Motown…it’s not such a big deal.
That was but one penny dropped in Detroit…I also learned the term ‘decay porn’, coined by locals for the perverse practice of rich tourists ‘exploring’ their crumbling neighbourhoods; blocks and blocks of properties, emptied by foreclosure and financial crisis…and, I confess, while the music and Diego Rivera murals were major draw-cards…vacant skyscrapers and derelict churches are weirdly fascinating and did influence my choice to go there…I’m embarrassed to admit that now.
Detroit’s past few decades are a grim premonition for the future of capitalism. Once a powerhouse of jobs and industry, it’s since suffered a series of setbacks. Setbacks which rendered it one of the poorest places in the States. But that’s just one side of the story I learned there. Many people I met, passionately, devotedly loved their town. And I saw why. It’s hard to avoid the potholes and abandoned lots, but in Detroit, I also went to theatres, galleries and raves. I saw huge factories, once busy with automotive production, now bustling with art studios. My brilliant AirBnB host bought her house for $400 and with her neighbours, transformed the dusty wreck into a live-work space, with a community dance floor to boot! I found immensely kind people in a welcoming city. A city rich in culture and complex history… but also I found a very normal city, where people go about their lives, as they do everywhere. From a distance, we have a tendency to ‘cartoonify’ and even romanticise life in less affluent places. Life is very hard for many in Detroit… but life goes on and cities heal themselves through hope and resilience.
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