"Musicians are not politicians." Those were the first words I heard when I started college. Sitting in front of me, in my first theory class that freshman year, was a middle-aged professor who had on sandals and white crew socks. He was an internationally recognized organist and a very gentle spirit. Outside the window professors from other disciplines were on strike. In, not so many words, he told us we would serve many religions in our lifetimes, and provide music for many secular gatherings. We would play music to support beliefs that were not our own. We would belong to musicians unions, professional music organizations, and eventually teach music to others. And we would learn to do the work without taking sides.
Most of my peers in college were working church musicians, PKs (preacher's kids), or hoping to work in the sacred music industry. One young man was on the path to becoming a Jesuit Priest. Another had already landed a respected organist position in the Archdiocese in Detroit. (Not being a Catholic and having lived in many different places since those days, I have learned that the Jesuits are some of the most passionate workers for their communities. I was quite shocked when I came to Charleston and realized priests here were allowed to amass their own wealth and did not have to take the same vows as other priests I had known.)
The first young man I became friends with in college directed the music for his father's church. Both of his parents had numbers tattooed on their arms from their days of captivity. His dear mother never slept. His father was a strong man of faith and had no doubt that Jesus had saved him and his wife from death. His father's story of how his life was miraculously spared from death during the Holocaust was moving. He started, perhaps, one of the first Jewish led churches that preached the Gospel of Jesus Christ when he arrived in the States.
The next student I became friends with told me of how her mother had marched with Martin Luther King, Jr. And then others shared the same story about their parents. Another had a father who was a construction worker and who literally built the church that he led.
We were all children born in the 60s being raised in the greater Detroit area. Riots and other news of the day was calmly presented by local newscasters with just the facts - not the media frenzy you see today. And our parents, aunts, and uncles, and neighbors who had lived through the Depression and served in World War II were reminiscing about their pasts and seeing the World change right before their eyes.
And through it all, music was there. Folk artists were playing songs on the radio that are still sung during remembrances on Martin Luther King Jr Day. Motown music was on the radio along with songs from the 40s and 50s that were popular with our parents when they were young. Unlike today's stations that only play current hits, or one type of music, it seemed like the songs from every generation had come together at one time on the popular music stations.
And so there we were, witnessing something at that young age, that went against what my professor would tell us as young adults sitting in a college classroom. Later in our Music History classes we would learn that Mozart's operas were often political satires, and other great works had political overtones as well.
But what about the Civil Rights Movement music today; What are songs that are still a part of remembering the peaceful work of Martin Luther King, Jr. ?
On the morning before Reverend Martin Luther King Jr's "I Have A Dream" speech in Washington, D.C., the folk singer Joan Baez opened the event with her singing of the song "Oh, Freedom." It became an anthem of the movement. Oh Freedom was a tune that had been sung by enslaved Black people. "Oh, Freedom. Oh Freedom over me! Before I'll be a slave I will be buried in my grave..."
We Shall Overcome started as a spiritual titled "I'll Be Alright Someday." It was a song used by the Tobacco Workers Union in 1946. It found its way to the Highlander Folk School where the school's director Zilphia Horton and others, adapted it to the struggles of their current labor movement and began using the lyrics, We Will Overcome. Zilphia Horton taught the song to Pete Seeger. Seeger changed the lyrics to We Shall Overcome. The song was used at a non-violent student rally in South Carolina and has become a recognized song for the civil rights movement. "Deep in my heart, I do believe. We shall overcome some day."
This Little Light of Mine is a children's song, and a spiritual. It was sung during the civil rights era to encourage personal empowerment. "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine. Let it shine all over the World."
We Shall Not Be Moved was sung in union halls and also became part of the civil rights movement in the 50s and 60s. "Like a tree planted by the water, I shall not be moved."
In the late 30s the civil rights movement was in its beginning stages. The well-known jazz singer Billie Holiday premiered a song written by a Jewish schoolteacher named Abel Meeropol. The song was Strange Fruit. "Strange trees bear strange fruit. Blood on the leaves and blood at the root, Black bodies swinging in the Southern breeze. Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees."
Bob Dylan recorded two songs that found their way into the civil rights music file. Blowin' in the Wind, he said, was not a protest song. It just raised questions that needed to be raised. Joan Baez, and Peter, Paul & Mary also recorded this work. Dylan's second song was more raw. Only A Pawn in Their Game was about the assassination of Medgar Evers. Dylan brought to light his thoughts that the murder of Evers wasn't just an issue between the assassin and his target, but a larger overbearing issue that needed repair. "And he's taught how to walk in a pack, shoot in the back, with his fist in a clinch, to hang and to Lynch...He ain't got no name, but it ain't him to blame, he's only a pawn in their game."
Music has a history of defining its place in time. Even our popular music, music of the people, is carrying its own story for others to look back on. How will our music footprint be interpreted by people 100 years from today? Will they hear reflections of our financial collapse in the mid 2000s, the pandemic we are currently witnessing, the struggles of others around the World at present day?
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