The question, “what should music do?” seems to always be in the air. And artists, critics, theorists and music lovers constantly provide new answers. Music should comfort. Music should challenge the powerful. Music should be beautiful. Music should bring people together. Truisms. Often we wrap our answers around our ideas around what we see as most needed in the world. These days I am interested more in what music does. The answers to this are different for each person and culture, but today I am thinking about music’s most sublime, and dangerous, capacity – the ability to transcend. And when I think of this I think of Mahler’s setting of Ruckert’s” Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” (I am lost to the world). Here is a translation of the poem:
I am lost to the world
with which I used to waste so much time,
It has heard nothing from me for so long
that it may very well believe that I am dead!
It is of no consequence to me
Whether it thinks me dead;
I cannot deny it,
for I really am dead to the world.
I am dead to the world’s tumult,
And I rest in a quiet realm!
I live alone in my heaven,
In my love and in my song.
To be so transported that the ephemeral beauty of sound is enough, whether in creating it or receiving it. It is sublime, it is hypnotic. It is not deceptive, it makes good on its promise to transport. This song encapsulates that experience for me – of having such investment in worldly affairs, right and wrong, justice and injustice, and to relinquish that attachment because of music.
Here is Jessye Norman, bringing it to us, or us to it:
Hope to see all you readers at NYFOS’s Protest when we turn the power of music back into the world that so desperately needs our attention.
Folk songs written by West Virginians born in the 1920s. Progressive, utopian even, they are visions of an American future. George Crumb, pioneer of sound and music, has become a prolific setter of American folk songs in the last few decades. From the songs he has set and the industrial-mystical hollow and full soundscapes he creates around them, it seems that Appalachia, and his home state of West Virginia specifically are on his mind.
In Crumb’s folk song settings, he creates a soundscape using an orchestra of percussion and amplified piano around the intact original song. In so doing, he strips away the veneer of simplicity through which we often listen to familiar songs and places them in a new, deeply insightful context. In folk songs, nursery rhymes, and hymns, we find the basic precepts of our collective mythologies in their most direct articulation, and Crumb’s settings bring them into focus as the powerful, world-view shaping artifacts they are.
The song “Beulah Land” upholds the idea of a restored homeland—a land that is just out of reach of the living, mired as we are in hardship or mundanity—and it has a long association with Appalachia, a landscape equally beautiful, lush, and wild and polluted, stripped and harnessed for coal, the black rock that runs through the hills above George Crumb’s childhood home. My friend, author Catherine Moore beautifully reflects on this hymn and the tendency of Appalachia’s communities to look towards an idealized past as it is on the precipices of generational change. Her voice is one of many looking for a future Beulah in the green rolling hills of West Virginia, and her story for the Oxford American can be found here. Good subway reading about the world beyond…
Here is George Crumb’s resetting of the song. You can hear the landscape in his sounds.
The path “We Shall Overcome” took from a Philadelphia minister’s hymnal in 1900 to become a universally recognizable anthem of our hopes for a more just society, led us to the Highlander Center, the behind the scenes hub of US social movements, their strategists and artists.
One of the things I love about the Highlander Center, perched on a hill in eastern Tennessee overlooking the Smokey Mountains, is that it points to the history and continuing possibility of cultural appreciation and political alignment between rural and urban working class communities. So often depicted as at odds with one another, or locked in the perpetual culture wars, the history of Highlander Center, upholding the racial justice work of the civil rights movement and the struggles for workers rights in Appalachia’s predominantly white working class communities shows that it is possible, and necessary to build solidarity between communities that face different aspects of the same structural injustices.
Hazel Dickens stands out to me as an artist rooted in her cultural tradition whose songs spoke to the specific plight of Appalachian coal mining communities and articulated a broader vision of setting things right. She shared her song 1973 “Black Lung,” about her brother’s fatal struggle with the coal miner’s disease at Highlander. Forty-five years later, the disease still affects tens of thousands of miners and retirees, and many go through long, expensive legal battles with their former employers to receive the health benefits they earned. Here is Hazel Dickens song, Black Lung:
So, how do we get from the austere and atonal grandeur of Ruth Crawford’s lament “Sacco and Vanzetti,” to the uplifting hymn tune and civil rights anthem of “We Shall Overcome.” First, shout-out to composer Nate May for making the connection. In 1932 Ruth Crawford married fellow composer, musicologist, and political lefty Charles Seeger Jr, father of then thirteen-year-old Pete Seeger. Yes, the guitar and banjo-wielding, sunny-voiced Pete Seeger was the son of a musicologist and classical violinist, and was raised in part by the avant-garde composer Ruth Crawford. Though he didn’t follow in the stylistic footsteps of his parents, he found a more populist musical vehicle for his vision of social justice in America.
The story of Pete Seeger and “We Shall Overcome” is a complicated one, and it is still unfolding in the newspapers today in a legal battle for copyright. On one level, it is a story of a white activist with affluent roots publishing a well known folk song of the African American tradition, and putting it under copyright; one vessel for the song appointing himself the legal owner. But Seeger wasn’t selfish in his actions—the proceeds from Seeger’s copyright have financed The We Shall OvercomeFund, of The Highlander Center for Research and Education, which makes grants for cultural organizers working for racial and social justice across the South. The song however had life long before Seeger published it in 1948.
Reverend Charles Albert Tindley composed the earliest version of the song in 1900 for the Methodist Episcopal Church. The hymn spread quickly, melding with oral traditions, and as early as 1909 the song was being sung to keep spirits high in early labor strikes of the United Mine Workers. The song took root in the American labor movement, and it was during a black-female-led farm worker strike in South Carolina that one of the song’s great transmitters, union organizer and musician Zilphia Horton heard it. She brought it to its spiritual home—The Highlander Center—where Pete Seeger learned it from her in 1947.
Founded in 1932 in New Market, TN, The Highlander Center has been at the nexus of progressive social movements, and music making, from the early labor movement, the civil rights era, anti-strip mining activism in Appalachia, to present day movements for immigrant rights, LGBTQ rights, and Black Lives Matter. In short, Highlander is the beating heart at the center of movements for justice in the USA. It has been a crossroads for everyone from Dr. Martin Luther King, Nina Simone, Pete Seeger, Hazel Dickens, Lorraine Hansberry, Rosa Parks, and countless unknown activists and artists persistently forwarding justice in America.
From the Highlander Center, the song spread. Guy Carawan, who would later teach it to members of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC, organizers of the lunch counter sit ins and Freedom Ride, among other actions), in 1960, learned it at Highlander. Dr. King, who would often quote the song in sermons and speeches, heard it in a performance Seeger gave at Highlander in 1957. SNCC and Dr. King mobilized the song in the most iconic actions of the civil rights movement, and the song became synonymous with the struggle for racial justice.
Seeger moved to copyright the song in 1960, in part to prevent the song’s commercialization for profit alone. As previously mentioned, Seeger’s royalties have gone back to The Highlander Center’s We Shall Overcome Fund, to support ongoing work for racial justice in the South. The song is back in the news as a legal team has successfully sued to move the song into the public domain. A settlement at the end of 2017 removed the song from copyright and fully into the public domain, meaning that the use of the song is now unrestricted, and that Highlander no longer has an institutional claim to the song. The song is woven into our political history and consciousness, and has been a tool for social justice – in moments of political struggle and as a revenue generating cultural artifact. The song is no longer protected and it is up to the public to mobilize the song for the right ends and make sure it serves the needs of the communities it comes from. You all know the tune, so I’ll leave you with Dr. Martin Luther King’s 1965 speech built on the central premise of the song.
Check out Highlander the We Shall Overcome Fund, here.
The process of making music with Steve Blier and NYFOS is always an exploration that demands equal parts intellectual and emotional integrity. I’ve been back in the studio with Steve this month as we gear up for the upcoming Protest concert at Merkin Hall, bridging the gap, or finding a union between, my activist and musical impulses. Inspired by that work, I’m going to take this week of posts to trace a line through progressive American song writing of the 20th century, with a special emphasis on the sometimes radical music that comes from struggles for social justice in Appalachia and the American South.
I’ll start with a song that I was pleasantly surprised to hear in Juilliard’s Paul Hall in a program of 20th and 21st century music curated by new music trailblazer, Lucy Shelton. I was back stage, waiting to go on to sing a brand new song cycle on the weighty subject matter of how great my dog is (this is another story), when I heard the distinct, precise, and expressive clamor of Ruth Crawford’s 1932 “Sacco and Venzetti.”
A brief history refresher – Sacco and Vanzetti were Italian immigrants to the United States. They arrived in 1908, and were active in socialist and anarchist organizations in New England until their arrest in 1920 on murder charges connected with a bank robbery in Braintree, MA. The trial and subsequent appeals became a lightning rod for issues of immigration and political freedom, as it became clear that the prosecution relied heavily on anti-immigrant and anti-leftist sentiments of the judge to press their case. The two were convicted, and executed in 1927. Though inconclusive, historians question the validity of the convictions and point to the episode as an early example of the deadly collision of the criminal justice system and ethnocentrism and anti-leftism.
Fast forward not to far, to 1932, two years into the great depression, and we find the modernist composer Ruth Crawford setting Chinese immigrant, and revolutionary, H.T. Tsiang’s lament and ode to Sacco and Vanzetti for soprano and piano. I love finding these unlikely combinations of immigrant poets, female composers, and revolutionary politics. Song, opera, we may love them for their aesthetic beauty, or the respite they offer from the challenges of life, but what better, more visceral, way to take on the thorniest aspects of our society, of ourselves than the fusion of word and music.
Take a listen to Lucy Shelton’s recording on Deutsche Gramaphon here:
And then imagine me singing about my dog, and performing as my dog, on stage immediately thereafter. I can enjoy the lighter moments too.
Tomorrow, “We Shall Overcome.” Shout-outs to anyone who emails me the connection from Ruth Crawford’s awesome but not quite hummable “Sacco and Vanzetti” to the civil rights anthem.
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