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Over My Head... I Hear Music in the Air
| Marion Anderson, Paul Robeson, Leontyne Price and the Fisk Jubilee Singers were all victims of overt racism and public humiliation. How then is it that they all found the strength to carry on with dignity and distinction, leaving legacies for which not only African Americans but all Americans can be proud? Who are the Marion Andersons, Paul Robesons, and Leontyne Prices of today? Where are they? Are we producing them?  Do our young prodigies face the same exclusionism faced by their early twentieth century predecessors? Could our children possibly face the same challenges faced by four black boys and five black girls who endured critical reviews referring to them as "nigger minstrels" to touching hearts and souls at home and abroad, making history for Fisk and the name Jubilee synonymous with excellence? What was so unique about the late nineteen hundreds that such luminary figures were born endowed with the gifts and fortitude needed to brake through seemingly impenetrable obstacles and rise above insurmountable odds as though it were ordained by God Himself? After decades of decline in our propensity to raise voice and spirit in what were once characteristically uplifting tones, have we yet hit a low enough frequency to catapult us back to the lofty heights of self expression like the Phoenix of Greek mythology rising out of an inferno? I for one am desperate for the food that music provides the soul. The fast food we have been served for far too many years now has left us in a state of spiritual and emotional malnutrition. The notes and beats of modern music are not enough to satisfy our inner needs any more than a diet of burgers and fries can truly provide nutrition to our bodies. We need the soul restored in our music, regardless of genre, in order to survive - period. That's it in a nutshell. It's what has always set us apart. Whether the context is spiritual, blues, jazz or romantic the soul is what makes it live in us. From "Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen" and "Swing Low Sweet Chariot" to "There's a Balm in Gilead" and "Peace Be Still" to "Strange Fruit" to "Tears of a Clown"; we are somehow able to speak to the issues of pain and degradation with crystal clarity and the heat of passion. When we perform classical themes in the form of arias or concertos we have the innate ability to infuse a nearly indistinguishable but certainly evident element which is absolutely impossible to articulate but to call it soul. We have let our predecessors down. We have used self-expression as an excuse to forgo the pursuit of excellence. We have let technology replace skill development. Tempo and pitch no longer have to be accurate because it can all be corrected digitally. We can hardly remember a few phone numbers now because they are digitally stored in hand held devices from a simple $49 cell phone to a Blackberry or the much coveted iPhone, which for under $1,000 can virtually manage your entire life. Soul is the one thing that can not be reproduced with digital workstations. I dare say it will never be generated by a digital processor. Soul comes from within like a mine deep within a mountainside. Soul is inherently honest. You can't fake soul any more than you can fake the funk or cool or swing. Soul is the truth and it has been said that the truth will set you free. Marion Anderson, Paul Robeson, Leontyne Price and the Fisk Jubilee Singers all had soul which is how they were able to break through and rise above until they were indeed truly free. They were then able to make us all just a little more free. The Godfather of soul singing "say it loud... I'm black and I'm proud" made us all just a bit freer. Perhaps we have grown tired of themes of self hate and are ready again to bask in the freshness and beauty of songs of love and redemption, salvation and a loving God and as Aretha would remind us R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Article also published in Dallas Weekly |
