Cool Hand Luke has a distinct soundtrack that features original music by composer Lalo Schifrin and an intriguing collection of traditional American music selected by director Stuart Rosenberg. The music emerged over an intense nine-month span in 1966–67, during which ideas flowed freely and original plans were often jettisoned. Rosenberg and Schifrin were the film's primary musical architects, but others contributed along the way, including screenwriters, actors, producers, folk music experts, and a trio of banjo players. Based on a wide range of primary sources, including documents in the Warner Bros. Archives at the University of Southern California, interviews with individuals involved in the production, the voluminous popular press about the film, and the film itself, this article is a rare glimpse inside the creative process that produced an unmistakably American soundtrack.

During World War II, the United States government imprisoned approximately 120,000 Japanese Americans, two-thirds of whom were American-born citizens, half of whom were children. Through ethnographic interviews I explore how fragile youthful memories, trauma, and the soundscape of the War Relocation Authority (WRA) Incarceration Camps shaped the artistic trajectories of three such former “enemy alien” youth: two pianists and a koto player. Counterintuitively, Japanese traditional arts flourished in the hostile environment of dislocation through the high number of nisei (second generation) participants, who later contributed to increasing transculturalism in American music following resettlement out of camp. Synthesizing Japanese and Euro-American classical music, white American popular music, and African American jazz, many nisei paradoxically asserted their dual cultural commitment to both traditional Japanese and home front patriotic American principles. A performance of Earl Robinson and John Latouche's patriotic cantata, Ballad for Americans (1939), by the high school choir at Manzanar Incarceration Camp demonstrates the hybridity of these Japanese American cultural practices. Marked by Popular Front ideals, Ballad for Americans allowed nisei to construct identities through a complicated mixture of ethnic pride, chauvinistic white Americanism allied with Bing Crosby's recordings of the Ballad, and affiliation with black racial struggle through Paul Robeson's iconic Ballad performances.

In early 1937, Kurt Weill and playwright Clifford Odets collaborated on a Spanish Civil War film that they hoped would lead to a new kind of political–musical picture. Originally titled The River Is Blue, the film was eventually released in 1938 as Blockade without the involvement of either Odets or Weill, but recently uncovered archival material of the abandoned project reveals new facets of Weill's musico-dramatic thought. The discovery of Odets's first draft of the screenplay shows an extraordinarily close collaboration between composer and screenwriter as the shot numbers in the script align exactly with numbers in Weill's score. Read together, these two documents show Weill attempting to combine different paradigms of film scoring that were popular in the 1930s. There are moments of typical Golden Age–style scoring with mickey-mousing and leitmotifs, but there is also evidence of older practices such as the use of popular songs. Weill's score also displays the influence of the Popular Front, elements of Eisensteinian montage, and anti-Wagnerianism. These show Weill working toward what he termed “film-opera,” not a filmed version of an opera but an entirely new genre that combined elements of musical theatre and movies.

As John Cage wrote in his book A Year from Monday, the “current use for art [is] giving instances of society suitable for social imitation—suitable because they show ways . . . people can do things without being told or telling others what to do.” Cage's ideal anarchic music emphasizes not only renouncing compositional control, but also the process of self-discovery happening to everyone, a process that leads participants to discover their creative abilities. This paper argues that Cage's penchant for self-discovery came from his understanding of George Herbert Mead's theories of the process of individuation (the “me” and the “I”). Cage discovered Mead through reading Zen and American Thought (1962) by his friend Van Meter Ames, a professor of philosophy at the University of Cincinnati, who saw the compatibility between Zen and Mead's concept of self in the capacity of the “I,” a phase of self whose unpredictable steps contribute to human innovation. Cage found the possibility of overthrowing the thought of the world through triggering a self-discovery of the “I” in everyone. He realized this idea in his happenings, such as 0’00”, by requiring performers to respond to the simple descriptions without specifying sound or duration.