There are so many different types of music videos out there. My favorites are the very extra and drawn-out ones that tell a story with the song and add to its meaning. That’s why I will be analyzing Celine Dion’s “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now.”
“It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” was the leadoff song on possibly her most successful album and in my opinion, it is her most iconic music video, and one of the most iconic music videos of all time. The video and song are quite long-roughly 6 minutes in length. It starts with a 50 second instrumental introduction. In these 50 seconds, although she hasn’t started singing, we get set up with the overall feel of the video. The music, camera work, etc. come together to give us the feel of what is going on. Musically, we hear both haunting and passionate music as the melody comes in fragments. We already get the sense that something bad is about to happen from that. Not only from the music but from the lightning storm outside. Not to mention the shifting camera work, the scary dark, gothic mansion, the paintings, statues, old knick-knacks, candles and moonlight. And of course, something bad does happen. The person who Celine is singing about in the video dies in a motorcycle accident after a tree falls in his path and catches fire. So, lots of drama. This music video is way over- the-top. It was actually one of the most expensive ones to make. The man who wrote the song, Jim Steinman, is also a man driven to extremes.
“At restaurants, he routinely orders a half-dozen appetizers and a comparable number of entrees and desserts. He creates pop songs that are bigger than everything else on the radio — longer, louder, lusher, with exquisitely layered background vocals, crashing cymbals and emphatic titles…”
Now you can see that why the video is so excessive and extravagant. Check out this pic of Steinman:
The sound in this long instrumental opening is very well planned out. For instance, the motorcycle crashes and the music plays along with it with a sudden strike, along with crashing thunder sound effects. And visually, the sights play along with it too with the explosion of light and fire. The camera is constantly shifting scenes and points of view too which gives us a sense of chaos.
In the rest video, Celine Dion’s character frantically runs alone in the scary mansion while the wind is blowing crazily inside from the open windows. She’s haunted by her dead lover’s ghost image, which she sees in mirrors and picture frames replaying their lives together. It ends with her holding a photo of them, followed by a shot of the storm being over and the sky clearing up, leaving us with a feeling of release.
As you can see, “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” is very melodramatic and gets us all feeling some type of way. And I think the commenters agree:
Taylor Harris says “Gosh. I used to belt the hell out of this song when my parents went to work all summer. I sang as if I was longing for love and needed it back. I was 13 and never had a boyfriend…but when I sang this song I sang it as if I had lost one.” Another commenter saying “throwback to when music videos had ACTUAL storylines.” Another person agrees saying “I got chills listening to it and watching the storyline in the video.”
I think these comments show exactly what this music video is going for. It is trying to evoke emotional responses and it does a good job with this in its dramatic, overindulgent fashion. People are reacting to the sounds and images exactly how the director and Celine wanted them too. It’s interesting how much effect a music video can have on a song. A good video can enhance and give deeper meaning to a song through its visual cues, while a bad video can completely ruin a song. Music videos are amazing because we can get another insight into what the artist had in mind with their song. It create this multi-sensory experience. It adds in a new element of feeling. In a lot of ways, it is the song visualized.
For thousands of years before Lieutenant James Cook “discovered” Australia, more than 500 Indigenous nations consisting of over 750,000 people had already been living harmoniously on the land. They believed that Human, Animal, Plant and land is part of one vast unchanging network of relationships that was established before they even existed. Unlike the Europeans, they believed that the land owns mankind, not the other way around. Sadly, on 22 August 1770, Lieutenant Cook stumbled across this land, stuck a flag on the ground and claimed it to be a part of the British Empire. Aboriginal people were stripped of their human and land rights and suffered from discrimination, and violence for hundreds of years.
Despite the absolutely harrowing and irreversible pain they have inflicted on Aboriginal people, Australia remains the only commonwealth country to have never signed a treaty with its indigenous people. The lack of a treaty insinuates the lack of recognition of indigenous people’s history and prior occupation of the land, and the lack of a firm, functional relationship between Indigenous people and non-Indigenous Australians. In 1988, former Prime Minister of Australia, Bob Hawke, signed the Barunga statement proposed by the leaders of the Australian Indigenous community and promised that a treaty would be delivered by 1990. The Barunga statement called for the Australian Government to recognise Indigenous sovereignty, their basic human rights and respect for the Aboriginal identity and culture. However, despite Hawke’s promise, there were no signs of change, let alone a treaty. In 1991, the band Yothu Yindi collaborated with musician Paul Kelly to compose ‘Treaty’ to protest against the government’s broken promise and to raise public awareness about it.
Yothu Yindi were an Australian musical group that was a merger of a white rock group and an Aboriginal folk group from Yolngu homelands. The lyrics of ‘Treaty’ consist of both English and Yolngu Matha, the native language of the Yolngu. This is the lyrics to the song:
Well I
heard it on the radio
And I saw it on the television
Back in 1988, all those talking politicians
Words are easy, words
are cheap
Much cheaper than our priceless land
But promises can disappear
Just like writing in the sand
Treaty yeah treaty now
treaty yeah treaty now
Nhima djatpangarri nhima
walangwalang (You dance djatpangarri, that’s better)
Nhe djatpayatpa nhima gaya’ nhe marrtjini yakarray (You’re dancing, you
improvise, you keep going, wow)
Nhe djatpa nhe walang gumurrt jararrk gutjuk (You dance djatpangarri, that’s
good my dear paternal grandson)
This land was never
given up
This land was never bought and sold
The planting of the union jack
Never changed our law at all
Now two river run their course
Seperated for so long
I’m dreaming of a brighter day
When the waters will be one
Treaty yeah, treaty now
(x2)
Nhima gayakaya nhe gaya’
nhe (You improvise, you improvise)
Nhe gaya’ nhe marrtjini walangwalang nhe ya (You improvise, you keep going,
you’re better)
Nhima djatpa nhe walang (You dance djatpangarri, that’s good)
Gumurr-djararrk yawirriny’ (My dear young men)
Nhe gaya’ nhe marrtjini gaya’ nhe marrtjini (You improvise, you keep
improvising, you keep going)
Gayakaya nhe gaya’ nhe marrtjini walangwalang (Improvise, you improvise, you
keep going, that’s better)
Nhima djatpa nhe walang (You dance djatpangarri, that’s good)
Gumurr-djararrk nhe yå, e i, e i, e i i i, i i i, i i i, i i (You dear things)
Treaty ma’ (Treaty now)
Promises disappear –
priceless land – destiny
Well I heard it on the radio
And I saw it on the television
But promises can be broken
Just like writing in the sand
Treaty yeah treaty now treaty yeah treaty now (x2) Treaty yeah treaty ma treaty yeah treaty ma (x2)
yothu yindi performing ‘treaty’ at ARIAs
What makes this song so unique and impactful is the combination of both aboriginal and balanda (non-Aboriginal) musical cultures. The lead singer, Mandawuy Yunupingu commented “Though it borrows from rock ‘n’ roll, the whole structure of ‘Treaty’ is driven by the beat of the djatpangarri that I’ve incorporated in it. It was an old recording of this historic djatpangarri that triggered the song’s composition.” The instrumentation used in this song includes both western instruments such as electric guitars, keyboard and drums, and traditional indigenous instruments such as yidaki (didgeridoo) and bilma (ironwood clapsticks). The song is composed with the western twelve-note chromatic scale, and so harmony is more controlled by electric guitar and keyboard. Traditional aboriginal instruments focus more on timbre rather than harmony, and adds a distinct, irreplaceable tone quality to the song.
The ‘Filthy Lucre’, Melbourne-based dance remixers, let out a remix of ‘Treaty’, and that led the song to gain international recognition. The remix peaked at No.11 on the Australian Recording Industry Association singles charts, and was the 29th best-selling song in Australia in 1991. It was performed by Yothu Yindi at the Closing Ceremony of the Sydney Olympics on 1 October 2000.
‘Treaty’ is an upbeat song with mainly major tonality, despite the heavy issue that it addresses. Perhaps this is to express their hopefulness for a brighter future despite their current gloomy situation. Unfortunately, to this day there is still no treaty. Although on the surface it may seem like Aboriginal Australians are given equal rights as non-indigenous Australians, the social, educational and economic gap is huge but not much is being done to close it. A treaty is long, long overdue and it is absolutely necessary to the future of Australia’s relationship with its indigenous peoples. I hope “treaty yeah treaty now” happens in the very very near future.
These words were spoken in Coventry, England–the same sight for the premiere, 20 years earlier on Memorial Day, 1962, of Britten’s War Requiem at the consecration of the reconstructed St. Michael’s Cathedral, which had been bombed out along with the rest of Coventry in 1940.
The Conception: Britten the Pacifist
For many, the destruction of Coventry, a non-military target, was symbolic of German brutality during the war. As such, it’s reconstruction from ruin was, despite limited post-war resources, a much-needed healing of old wounds and a statement of Britain’s recovery and resilience (Wiebe 194).
When the new Cathedral was finally rebuilt … it was both a monument to the losses of the Second World War and a powerful statement of renewal, a statement given new urgency by rising Cold War tensions.
Heather Wiebe, Britten’s Unquiet Pasts, p. 194
Britten was tapped to write a piece to commemorate the newly rebuilt St. Michael’s Cathedral at the 1962 Coventry Festival ostensibly because of his major international presence and success as a distinctly British composer. This was despite Britten being a well-known pacifist who went abroad just prior to the second world war breaking out and later registered as a conscientious objector, an important point of contention at the time.
Acting on his beliefs, Britten chose to interweave the traditional Latin requiem texts with the poetry of Wilfred Owen, an anti-war poet who died in military service during the First World War. Erin MacLean, of the University of Regina, postulates that Britten’s choice to use the words of a young soldier-poet provided crucial sentiments informed by real war experience that Britten himself lacked (MacLean 44).
The Execution: Vishnevskaya’s Absence
And yet, its premiere was not to go without a hitch. Britten, in order to bolster the anti-war symbolism of the event, intended for the three soloists to be British tenor Peter Pears, German baritone Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau and Soviet soprano Galina Vishnevskaya. It was to signal a union of Europe from the ashes–a new spring.
Britten himself kept close ties with the Soviet Union following the war, visiting often and befriending and working with many Soviet composers and soloists, including Shostakovich, Rostropovich and Vischnevskaya. He drew on these connections to bring Vishnevskaya out of the country to Coventry for his premiere, but mere weeks before the piece was to be performed, the Soviet Union blocked Galina Vischnevskaya from leaving the Soviet Union, likely because of the involvement of Fischer-Dieskau with the project. After all, she was allowed to record the piece and perform it only a year later at the Aldeburgh Festival in Suffolk.
The British Ambassador rightly concluded that the Soviet decision not to allow Galina Vishnevskaya to sing at the premiere of the War Requiem in 1962 … was due to “the character of the occasion at Coventry and possibly to the joint participation of Fischer-Dieskau rather than the work itself/
Cameron Pyke, Benjamin Britten and Russia, p. 171
Music could not be freed from political interests, even to pray for peace. Ultimately, Irish soprano Heather Harper stepped in and performed at the premiere with only ten days notice.
Zooming Out
Fifty-five years after the Coventry Festival of 1962, conservative radio personality Dennis Prager sparked remarkable controversy when he was invited to conduct Haydn’s Symphony No. 51 with the Santa Monica Symphony in Los Angeles, as was highlighted in a September 2017 article in Musicology Now by University of Chicago PhD candidate Ted Gordon.
Guido Lamell, music director of the Santa Monica Symphony, defended his invitation to Prager, which triggered protests from those who disagreed with Prager’s cultural and political views, by stating “music trumps politics.” Similarly, Prager responded to the backlash by stating that this particular performance–of an innocuous Haydn symphony–was in essence apolitical. But as Gordon wrote:
Yet Prager’s performance with the SMSO is of course political: it uses the “genius” of classical music as evidence towards his political ideology of “Western” supremacism. In addition, more practically speaking, his presence at this concert worked towards the creation of a new political group: people united by their supposedly “apolitical” support of “Western Art Music”.
Ted Gordon, “Does ‘Music Trump Politics’? Dennis Prager and the Santa Monica Symphony Orchestra”
Britten’s War Requiem shines as an example of just how intertwined politics and music often, inevitably, are. One can look back at 1962 and see the politics at play, the powers and views embedded in the very essence of the project’s conception and execution. Music does not trump politics so much as it reacts to politics–either by willful ignorance, support or subversion. Britten’s was more the latter two, and while Haydn’s symphonies may ostensibly exist independent of today’s politics, the context in which they are presented today can invite politics’ influence in profound ways.
Sounds of a Better World: Music in Protest of War
Despite Pope John Paul II’s plea in 1982, war has not left humanity’s agenda. It is in the news, on our Twitter feeds and on our breath: Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria. The list of violent conflicts, new and old, is extensive, and ever-growing. And yet, so is the body of music produced in response to and in protest of war.
Britten was not the first composer to ever sing in the face of violence, and he is certainly not the last. In 2015, children’s choral composer Jim Papoulis set a poem written by Virginia 7th grader Claire Latimer entitled I Ask For One Day for the Fairfax Choral Society Poetry of Music collaboration with Fairfax County Public Schools.
I ask for one day
Where I don’t have to hear about pain or life that’s lost.
The sentiment of a 12-year-old child making a plea for peace and non-judgement, for just one day, is about as pure and as real of a feeling as I can imagine.
The piece was published under Boosey & Hawkes’ Sounds of a Better World. Of course, a 7th grade student from Virginia doesn’t have quite the same experience as a poet who died in the trenches of World War I, and it may be a while before we align Jim Papoulis with the likes of Britten. In fact, Benjamin Britten and Wilfred Owen seem as far removed from Jim Papoulis and Claire Lattimer as just about anything, but I believe one can draw a powerful comparison in good faith under that fitting phrase: sounds of a better world. Those who would separate music from politics would invalidate the possibility of such sounds.
For generations, music has been used as a political tool, giving power to groups of people that otherwise may be powerless. For the black community this has been the case since the first slave ships arrived in “the land of the free”. Our ancestors sang spirituals on the ships that ripped them from their homeland. They sang as they worked the land that they were forced to adopt. They sang as they marched, rallied, and drove hundreds of miles through the South. And now we sing, but we also rap. Over the last several decades hip hop has become the predominant social, economic, and political voice of the African-American community in music. From “its birth in the 70’s” to its entrance into mainstream culture in the 90’s and continued evolution today, hip-hop tells some of the narratives found inside the ‘African-American’ community. No artist better represents this then the honorable Kendrick Lamar whose album ‘To Pimp A Butterfly’ covers a wide array of racial issues from police brutality and mass incarceration to gang violence, black on black crime and mental illness as a result of systematic oppression.
Kendrick Lamar’s political platform arises from his many years of living in Compton California. His father Kenny Ducksworth, was a former member of the street gang Gangster Disciples and was allegedly a drug dealer in Compton. His mother Paula Oliver is originally from Chicago Illinois and had Kendrick 3 years after arriving in Compton in the hopes of avoiding gang violence. Unfortunately, Compton in the 1990’s suffered from the rivalry of two of the largest gangs ever formed in US history, the Bloods and the Crips. Respectively, at their peak the membership of the gangs numbered more than 10,000. In this community Lamar began his musical and poetic journey. He released his first album at age 16 and soon after signed to Top Dawg Entertainment. He steadily gained a following collaborating with many other West coast rappers including Snoop Dogg, Busta Rhymes, and Dr.Dre who he eventually signed with after the release of his critically acclaimed 2011 Section 8.0. The rest is history.
Although biographical information can feel trivial when reading, and writing, to understand the message Kendrick Lamar delivers on TPAB is impossible without some insight into his background. His musical voice addresses the “reasons, and problems, and solutions” to the social and economic problems of black people in Compton because he is legitimately from Compton. Kendrick lamar is not an outsider of the community exploiting hip hop music for celebrity status. He’s a concerned, active member of his community looking to shed some insight on life in Compton. Kendrick considers himself a “writer” who has “to connect to the music” in order to have it speak the truths he’s been told in conversation. It seems that for the honorable Kendrick Lamar music is not just a means of communicating stories but a sort of therapy for all the pain and loss he’s experienced in Compton. Mental health and its impact on impoverished neighborhoods and communities as it pertains to black people specifically, is often overlooked. This album is one of few since the birth of hip hop to subliminally outline the PTSD, depression, and other forms of mental illness one can experience form living in communities full of violence and drug abuse. In TPAB one hears the multiple voices of Kendrick Lamar engage in dialogues with himself and with a symbolic Lucifer over depression, leadership, suicide, and “survivors guilt’ as Lamar calls it.
Kendrick Lamar’s rise to fame wasn’t so much “straight from the bottom” as the song King Kunta may suggest but a testament to his wanting to rise above the violence he saw in ganglife. His contribution to the African-American community as a witness and political activist has had a stunning impact on society as a whole. The honorable Kendrick Lamar is considered one of the best if not the best rapper in the World. His performances continue to astound audiences everywhere while delivering powerful social commentary that cannot be ignored. His use of music to create a platform from which to share the Compton experience is unrivaled in its authenticity, creativity, and power.
In the summer of 1941, Shostakovich began to play his seventh symphony for his friends and family in the city of Leningrad. His new symphony’s first movement began to fill the room, which centered on the sounds of the German invasion. Just as the first movement was coming to a close though, disaster struck as the bomb sirens began to echo throughout the city, the Germans had arrived. Shostakovich quickly gathered his family together and headed for shelter, promising everyone the performance would resume as soon as the sirens went off. Valerian Bogdanov-Berezovsky, a composer that attended this performance later wrote, the Seventh Symphony “is an extraordinary example of a synchronised, instant creative reaction to events as they are being lived through, transmitted in a complex, large-scale form, yet without the slightest hint of compromising the standard of the genre” (https://www.theguardian.com/music/2016/jan/02/war-music-the-humanity-heroism-and-propaganda-behind-shostakovich-symphony-no-7)
This Symphony in my opinion embodies the idea of an artist recording personal political turmoil on paper and using it to covey and scream a message to his audience. Shostakovich had the worlds throat with his own two hands with his music.
The premiere of the Seventh Symphony is astonishing. In August of 1942, in Leningrad (St. Petersburg) Shostakovich premiered his new masterpiece with a starving orchestra, some close to death. These musicians had seen tremendous suffering at the hands of the Germans to the ones they loved most. They defied Hitler’s control, and in response, they made history by using their gift of art to make a political statement. In August of 1942, they filled the “Grand Hall” with sounds that longed and begged for victory and an end to their suffering. G
An interesting thought as a conservatory student: Shostakovich not only was a soviet composer that used propaganda in his music but he was a hero that protected the Leningrad conservatory as a firefighter to keep the school from being destroyed in the war. Shostakovich protected what he loved most. I wish my conductors loved me like this </3 :(…. On July 20, 1942, Dmitri Shostakovich became the first composer to appear on the cover of TIME Magazine. “Amid bombs bursting in Leningrad,” said the caption under a portrait of Shostakovich in an ornate fireman’s helmet, “he hears the chords of victory.” https://www.seattlesymphony.org/watch-listen/beyondthestage/shostakovich
The idea that a composer could write a symphony of this magnitude while a city was being bombed and starved inspired listeners to believe that the Nazis would not gain control of Russia.
The first movement is centered around a simple, singular tune, that implodes and causes destruction throughout the movement. This is meant to resemble Hitler, a singular, simple man who caused destruction on masses of populations and changed the world forever. He later told a friend that he wasn’t exactly trying to portray fascism, but all forms of terror including slavery and control of peoples spirit and joy.
The symphony eventually builds up until the final movement (4) where you would think we would hear a joyous victory. We do, BUT, Shostakovich throws in the simple tune a couple more times and adds sounds of the pain and suffering that occured in his country, reminding the listener of the terrible horror that happened.
Fast forward: Leningrad siege ends 1944->Great Patriotic War->1948, Shostakovich’s music is banned.
As Shostakovich’s 7th symphony travels through time, we get to observe new interpretations that pertain to the political turmoil today, Shostakovich may have written this Symphony in defiance for Russia, but in the end, it can be as a political outcry for anyone. We can see an example of this when Colin Kaepernick refused to stand as the Star Spangled Banner played at a football game. This can clearly be compared to Shostakovich’s act of political resistance with his seventh symphony because both figures used peaceful protest in order to effectuate their point that what was going on in their countries at both times wasn’t right. I personally agree with Colins choice because the state of our nation is weaker than ever and seems to be heading in the wrong direction. People like Colin with large social platforms have the ability to make change and wake people up, which is exactly what he did.
You can read more on the article here on Colin here:
“A revolution is unfurling-America’s unfinished revolution. It is unfurling in lunch counters, buses, libraries and schools-wherever the dignity and potential of men are denied. Youth and idealism are unfurling. Masses of Negroes are marching onto the stage of history and demanding their freedom now!” These fiery words from Civil Rights leader John Philip Randolph capture the call to revolution in the 1950s and 60s. The United States were in upheaval as Black Americans fought for equality in a nation which claims that “All men are created equal.” Around the nation, freedom fighters were participating in sit-ins, boycotts, and other forms of protest. In 1955, Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat, in 1957, the Little Rock Nine braved the harassment of their school, and in 1960, Max Roach recorded an album that would prove to be a jazz anthem the revolution happening all around him.
John Phillip Randolph, the Civil Rights Leader who’s words appear in the “Freedom Now!” liner notes (biography.com)
The Album Cover to “We Insist!” depicts a sit-in, with three black men sitting at a what is most likely a white bar
It was into this scene that Max Roach inserted his musical call for freedom, the legendary album, “We Insist! The Freedom Now Suite!” The album had been politically motivated from the beginning. The liner notes suggest that the NAACP had hired Roach and vocalist Oscar Brown Jr. to write a piece for the 100th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation, which would occur in 1963. Although the Brown/Roach collaboration would be ended due to differing political views, the theme of freedom remained. Roach was joined by Vocalist Abbey Lincoln (who would be his wife from 1962-1970) and a star-studded cast of instrumentalists such as Booker Little (trumpet) and Julian Priester (trombone). The album captures Roach’s transition to the be-bop jazz-club scene to the harsher, grittier avant-garde style of the 1960s. This transition suits the harsh subject matter extremely well and provides a powerful picture of his world. The liner notes begin with the revolutionary quote from John Phillip Randolph. Roach and company were intentional about getting their message across. They wanted freedom, and they wanted it now.
The Album is composed as a chronological history of black culture in the US. “Driva Man” is a reference to pre-civil war slavery; “Freedom Day” recalls the excitement, anticipation and tension of Emancipation Day; “Triptych: Prayer, Protest, Peace” paints a vivid picture of the troubles blacks experienced in both the US and Africa; “All Africa” is a celebration of African culture; and “Tears for Johanassburg” is a response to the Sharpeville Massacre in South Africa.
A live version of “Freedom Day” performed in 1964. In this version, Roach plays a powerful solo near the beginning of the tune.
The performances on the album are all noteworthy, showcasing extreme virtuosity and expression. Particularly, “Freedom Day”, the most arranged tune on the album, stands out. Although the melody is simple, the tempo is absolute breakneck. Roach manages to keep up with this extreme tempo throughout, and provides a beautifully motivic and powerful solo near the end of the song. He begins simply, and then builds these simple motives to a thundering conclusion. Equally impressive is Little’s trumpet solo. Despite the extreme tempo, Little provides a fiery solo that is motivically sound and technically impressive. The tutti sections before and after the solo sections is particularly effective thanks to the powerful bass pedals that change shift under the dense chords of the horns. The lyrics, sung hauntingly by Lincoln, show an absolute disbelief that freedom day has come. This can be seen as powerful commentary of current events in the 50s and 60s. Although the Emancipation Proclamation provided some measure of freedom, true freedom still evaded black Americans. Roach himself stated that “we don’t really understand what it really is to be free. The last song we did, “Freedom Day” ended with a question mark.” This explains the mournful quality in a tune which subject matter would suggest jubilation.
The original Album version of Freedom DayMax Roach and Abbey Lincoln
What does “passed” mean for a person when for each of us the past is the bearer of all that is constant in the reality of the present, of each current moment?
Luigi Nono (1924-1990), one of the foremost pioneers of avant-garde music in post-war Europe, is also recognized for his fervent, left-wing political engagement. Following the stage works Intolleranza 1960 (1961) and A floresta é jovem e cheja de vida (1966), his electronic composition and explicitly political statement Musica-Manifesto n. 1 (1969), andComo una ola de fuerza y luz (1972) for soprano, piano and orchestra, his political activism culminated in Al gran sole carico d’amore (1972-4), an ‘azione scenica’ (scenic action) which was premiered at La Scala on 4 April 1975.
Nono expressly reminded Ricordi, his publisher, to avoid the traditional classification of a staged musical work as an opera. Certainly the eluded genre has been long bound with bourgeois connotations; the opera, besides the ample potential for commercial success and the institutionalization of vocal training, is also bound with a specifically linear style of storytelling. This convention had not been broken for almost 200 years since the solidification of the opera culture during the eighteenth century. Nono’s Al gran sole carico d’amore, however, does not unfold in accordance to the linear convention. Hybrid historical events and social incentives intertwined, their coherent interrelationship to each other very much effectively accomplished at the first place by an equally hybrid literary input. Nono adapted an anti-symbolism, affective and highly logical method to present collective will; since communist writers are a conduit through which the people illustrate their wills and utopian images, there lies a moral obligation to obliterate the boundary between the individual activist and a group of activists. Therefore, what originally is represented by a singular character in the literary source may be assigned for multiple voices or dispersed choruses in Nono’s work – a collective search for truth and communist utopia. The ordering of historical events, poetry references, and dramatizations is not confined to a temporal way of thinking, but is choreographed upon a plane of historicity which seamlessly morphs from one stage to another, from the present to the past. Time is will; the dolcissimo singing is the gravity which creates tremendous character in the human agents.
Another major characteristic of Al gran sole carico d’amore, and indeed many of his politically engaged compositions, is the utilization of protest songs and communist anthems, which, in spite of the fact that these songs all conform to tonal practices, still maintains a prospective, forward-looking character. In the liner notes of Lothar Zagrosek and Staatsorchester Stuttgart’s 1999 recording of the opera, Klaus Zehelein writes that “a crucial element of [Al gran sole carico d’amore] is that meaning is created, and that it is not, as in neo-Romanticism, a case of using expressivity as something which already exists. Rather, it is a matter of redefining it through syntax (trans. Alfred Clayton).” Indeed, quotations of tonal melodies, in an ‘atonal’ and teleological context, are often intended to invoke some kind of nostalgia or distance, usually characterized by inertia and the stark contrast with dissonant, actively fantastical and expositional passages; examples include the Alban Berg’s Violin Concerto, who contextualized a Carinthian folk song as the revelation of origin behind the cradle-grave analogy, and George Crumb’s Black Angels, who included the theme of Schubert’s Death and the Maiden and utilized it as an interlocutor of micro-density realms. On the contrary, Nono directly intruded into the interval content of the songs in a way that the songs cease to operate in a tonal logic; intervals, liberated from tonal contracts, enter the terrain of spatial considerations and negotiations. Jonathan Impett notes that, in Nono’s 1969 work Per Bastiana – Tai-Yang Cheng, “having analysed the limited interval content of The East is Red, Nono puts it at the centre of a wider pan-chromatic, all-interval interval matrix. The fragments thus produced explore the expanded pitch space step by step, until the pitches and intervals of the melody itself gradually emerge from their chromatic negative through the eight passages of the third section. (278)” Intervals denote space; the reality of expression lies in the peculiarity of individual spatial components and the composer’s ‘hegemonic’ organization. The shades of tonality are, once and for all, extirpated along with the relics of nineteenth-century romanticism which characterized the European bourgeois. Allying himself with Gramsci’s analysis of political hegemony, one of the main tenets of communism, Nono erased the difference between space, progress and history; intervals are like the resonating body of vociferous persons, articulating their demands and inviting adversaries – other intervals – to enter a socialist dialect, an perpetual process of compromise. His radical inventions were also a means to denounce a then-prevailing antithesis of his approach: that the use of revolutionary songs without a radical reworking on their musical profiles is, in other words the lack of radical participation in the musical/teleological prospects, is lethargic and, ultimately, bourgeois and authoritarian.
I/1
I/1
I/2
I/2
I/3
I/2
I/4
I/4
I/5
I/6
I/6
II/1
II/1
II/3
II/4
II/4
II/Finale
II/Finale
But in what ways does Nono’s scrupulously radical process of intervallic recontexualization reprimand a chronological time? In what ways does Nono’s compositional method correspond to the moral objective of azione scenica, the “expression of history (Zehelein)”? And how are deviations from this practice rendered ‘immoral’ or ‘irresponsible’? Perhaps we can take a departure to appraise neo-romanticism to clarify this issue.
Intending to revive conventional idioms and musical (especially tonal) practices, neo-romanticism is, needless to say, a polar opposite of Nono’s Gramscian approach of music; it is music “using expressivity as something which already exists.” In the remainder of this post I intend to argue how time and material are essentially the same, and how the mediocrity of material selection and utilization of neo-romantic music would imply not only a false representation of time but also, at worst, moral defects.
In 2017, Mason Bates’s opera, The (R)evolution of Steve Jobs, received its premiere. Although it has won a positive public appeal, critics have expressed discontent about the incoherence of musical ideas – largely due to Bate’s heavy dependence upon ‘pastiche’ – and have found it one of the detriments that made the opera unconvincing, along with the opera’s ‘moral vacuity’ and its ‘clichéd, fraudulent narrative arc.’ Having assessed Nono’s azione scenica, I would add that the fourth detriment to this opera is the banal understanding of time typical to neo-romantic composers. Andrei Tarkovsky, arguably one of the greatest film directors of all time, considered morality and human conscience contingent with time, which “in its moral implication is in fact turned back. (Sculpting in Time, 58)” Why does the adherence to morality require a different understanding of time? How does Bates’s opera subscribe to the ostensibly factual conception of an ‘irreversible time,’ despite the seemingly unconventional, non-chronological plot of Jobs’ life? How does Bates’s toying around with pastiche relate to this issue at all?
Unfolding the argument from the last question:
“[…] the first essential in any plastic composition, its necessary and final criterion, is whether it is true to life, specific and factual; that is what makes it unique. By contrast, symbols are born, and readily pass into general use to become clichés, when an author hits upon a particular plastic composition, ties it in with some mysterious turn of thought of his composition, loads it with extraneous meaning.”
Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in Time
The lack of specificity and factuality is manifest in the ubiquitous troping of pastiche in the opera; religious themes are represented by ‘orientalist clichés: breathy pentatonic flute, gongs, and prayer bowls,’ the musical-mathematical analogy by a literal quotation of J. S. Bach’s music, calamity by ‘self-consciously “modernist” idioms,’ etc. The maker of a polyscreen film is forced to “[reduce] simultaneity to sequence, in other words of thinking up for each instance an elaborate system of conventions (Tarkovsky, Sculpting in Time, 71).” Bates’s approach to semantic articulation also necessitates a similar solution: to reconcile irreconcilable musical/referential material by means of sequence and clichés. As a result the opera is neither specific nor factual; but how does this lack cause the opera to succumb to linear time?
The concept of linear time, according to Tarkovsky, stems from a semantic reading of cause and effect – it itself not more than a failure to see the “mutual dependence” of cause and effect of “inexorably ordained necessity”; “The link of cause and effect, in other words the transition from one state to another, is also the form in which time exists, the means whereby it is materialised, in day to day practice. (58)” A progressive reading of cause and effect would reveal the reversibility of causality and its primary agent – conscience – and it is the same progressive spirit that makes a plastic composition ‘specific and factual.’ In short, a materialised means automatically leaves the expressive terrain and is bound with troping, therefore is utilized in the same semantic realm where materialised, linear ‘time’ belongs to; by contrast, an idea or a statement charged with specificity and factuality is able to register itself unto the dialectic of truth and the conscience “inherent in time itself.”
Therefore, the use of techno signifiers and many other instances of pastiche in Bates’s opera in fact signifies an absence of moral bearings. The opera, by assorting and situating these symbols in their representational, ‘literal’ forms, countermands the provocative responsibility of an artwork and becomes a temple of archaic semantics; it is therefore devoid of truth, of individuality, and of expressive potential.
Gramsci considers the popular song as a prism of intentions and empirical dimensions: “What distinguishes the popular song of a nation or a culture is not its artistic origin or historical origins, but its way of conceiving of the world and life, in contrast with official society (Gramsci, Letteratura e vita nazionale, 1950),” Nono’s Al gran sole carico d’amore extended – perhaps extrapolated – Gramsci’s thesis into the exigent circumstances of post-war Europe and demonstrated the means of social unity through an unrelenting procedure of demarcating and demolishing dialogical spaces which finds momentary utopia within both internal and external manifestations of the world. As a composer, he internalized this historicity as well; the labyrinth of communist activities has formulated a self-sufficient dialectical terrain which, along with his impeccable erudition, caused him to gradually consider historicity in a different way. May I conclude this blogpost with Nono’s illuminating contemplation of himself:
I don’t aim to liberate myself from the shadows of the past. I don’t repudiate my work, thought and acts of the past. I have neither need nor motive to liberate myself from them. I am just seeking to broaden and deepen my thought in my work, in my life. I am also seeking to understand various dismemberments that have taken place within me (lacerations of various types leading to other discoveries of diverse quality and with various consequences) […] I am simply discovering other possibilities […] What I am studying literally upsets me because it opens me up to other thoughts, it doesn’t just make me question myself but makes me surpass the limits of the preceding thoughts and sentiments (why repudiate them if I come from here, why refute them if they are continuing in other ways in me?????) and at times in the joy of such intra-listening [intraascolto] I find myself alone.
Nono, letter to Pestalozza, September/October 1981
Although President Trump’s statement, “We write symphonies,” was not perfect, he made a good decision to point towards music while praising the progressive mentality adopted by the U.S. and its allies. There’s no doubt the President’s three-worded, blanket statement insinuates that classical music is an elitist artform, but Polish and American composers have produced countless works of art which aim to expose the exploitation of and prejudice against specific groups of people. George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess is an example of music creating awareness and helping those in need.
The initial reception of Porgy and Bess after its release in 1935 was mixed at best. Both the casting and the music were called into question as Gershwin’s folk opera featured an all-black cast as well as music that combined elements of jazz with western classical music. Gershwin was faced with the challenging task of writing music that would pass as authentic folk music but would also withstand the highbrow scrutiny of operatic audiences. Duke Ellington said Gershwin’s score did not reflect a genuine “Negro musical idiom,” but other critics said, “It abounds in color, it retains the quality of the Negro chant, the spiritual, the wail, the jazz, and the blues.” Not only was the music a hit or miss for some folks, but the content of Gershwin’s folk opera also had some questionable implications. Some described Porgy and Bess as a detriment to the race and as a vehicle that promoted racist stereotypes.
Even though Gershwin depicted Bess as a substance abuser with a penchant for abusive men and Porgy as a crippled beggar, Gershwin was still shining the spotlight on African American performers in 1935. Empowering these actors and actresses on stage gave them opportunities to bring about real change. During the show’s run in Washington D.C., the cast went on strike to protest the National Theatre’s segregation policy. Todd Duncan, starring as Porgy, was successful in organizing the protest and as a result ushered in the first integrated audience at the National Theatre on March 21, 1936.
Gershwin’s creation was celebrated by a host of incredibly influential musicians. In 1958, trumpeter Louis Armstrong collaborated with Ella Fitzgerald to release an entire album of Gershwin’s music and one year after that Miles Davis released a similar album featuring the writing of Gil Evans. The two albums are based off of the same material, but the end results are entirely different. Showcasing modal improvisation and third stream aesthetics, the Miles Davis record was quite innovative at the time of its release, whereas the 1958 record is another chronicle in the legacy of the iconic trumpet-vocal duo.
Inspiring two landmark albums, creating change in significant institutions, and advocating for African Americans in the arts, Porgy and Bess remains to be one of the most important American operas today. Gershwin innovated his art to incorporate elements from other cultures to create a dramatic documentation of American life. I say dramatic because the production is hardly factual and uses Gershwin’s ideas of African American culture as an outlet for expression. His folktale created opportunities for Black Americans to perform on legitimate stage bringing about discussion and change. I generally have a hard time supporting anything President Trump says, but a nod to Western Culture’s music history while making an appeal to America’s innovative spirit, “We write symphonies. We pursue innovation,” is one of the less ridiculous statements he’s made especially with figures like Miles Davis, George Gershwin, Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong decorating our history.
It was hard for me not to be moved at all when the impassioned sopranos in the choir of hundreds hit High-B with their chest-voice-ish sound while all the dancers on stage had just formed a huge, shimmering sunflower with bright-colored Chinese fans held in their hands and with joy and excitement beaming relentlessly from all of their faces in the overture of the film “the East is Red”, which records the performance of a Chinese propaganda Ballet initially produced in 1964—just before the outburst of Cultural Revolution. The Ballet is a collection of dances and songs put together in a musical extravaganza, telling a brief history of Chinese people from the Mao Zedong’s 1921 founding of the Communist Party of China (CCP) to the establishment of PRC (“New China”) in 1949, and particularly focusing on the Maoist thoughts by presenting the struggle of the proletarian against oppressors within or from outside of the country. This sonic/visual spectacle was supposed to be a tool of spreading revolutionary fever in China, as members in the communist party led by Mao around the time of its production was deeply concerned with unifying people’s thoughts after Mao’s failure in his unrealistic campaign to rapidly transform the country to socialist society by means of drastic increase of industrialization (“Da Yue Jin”, “Great Leap Forward”). As Mao turned to seek hidden Bourgeoisie that hindered revolutions within the party, his supporters supervised and directed numerous productions to further establish Maoism’s political correctness through mass media and advertisements. The production of “The East is Red” was supervised by none other than the Premier of the State Council—Zhou Enlai himself, who already very much contributed to creating the personal worship of Mao. Despite its obscurity after the 80s, some still regard the Ballet as one of the greatest spectacles ever produced in China: stunning masses of dancers with surprisingly stylish choreographic design; Wagner-flavored harmonization of folk tunes with revolutionary lyrics that exalt Mao’s thoughts…all serve well to achieve the goal of the work: making an “epic of songs and dances”. However, while admittedly overwhelmed by the expressiveness of the work, I clearly felt that there was something “wrong”; the sense of psychological manipulation was so strong that I instinctively started to struggle against it. This reaction leads me to closely examine the methods used in the work.
There are three important factors that, I think, contribute to the Ballet’s effectiveness in serving its purpose, but at the same time create problems or contradictions to the political messages this work conveys: firstly, the highly unified and regulated form of musical writing and gestural design; secondly, the religious, sentimental approach in plot and lyrics writing; and finally, the western standards of instrumentation for the orchestra and requirements for the performers.
All Under One: the Idea of Unity
Faced with unprecedented economic crisis and “the Great Famine”, the
party developed distrust towards Mao, as well as his supporters; therefore, conflicts
within the party emerged. Around the same time, the party’s concerns with Russian’s
de-Stanlinization policies proposed by the Premier Nikita Khrushchev of USSR
grew significantly: the CCP consecutively published several criticisms
denouncing Khrushchev’s policies, claiming that Khrushchev was a “revisionist” who
fundamentally betrayed the true path of Marxism-Leninism, allowing potential
revival of Bourgeoisie’s control over the government. Consequently, Mao initiated
a series of schemes to centralize power over the party in order to avoid the capitalist
restoration he had long feared. From this point, Mao started to realize the concept
of radical revolution in every aspect of the society led by the working class.
Art at that time was one of the most important media of spreading Maoist ideologies among the people. Later in the Revolution period, complete strategy of treating artistic creations were proposed by the government: all arts or forms of art that relate to the imperialist and/or capitalist traditions should be prohibited. In terms of musical works, western and Russian pieces, as well as old Chinese literati/court music and traditional operas, were all banned in the country. The only kind of music excluded was folk songs, which effectively represented “music of the people”; composers adapted folk tunes from different places and replace their lyrics with political statements. This strict limitation directly caused the concept of “model works”—musical productions that adhere to a set of unified rules—to emerge.
Singers and dancers take part in a performance staged by the Chinese National Opera of the “Red Detachment of Women” (a famous example of model work) marking the 50th anniversary of the Cultural Revolution in Haikou, China, in January. Source: https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2016/05/15/asia-pacific/chinas-maoists-still-force-50-years-1966-1976-cultural-revolution/#.XKMnBRNKigQ
One can see in “the East is Red” that this model of composition was already there before the Revolution erupted. All the songs that appear in the Ballet are either directly taken from folk tunes or original compositions that imitate folk melodies. Additionally, the choreographic designs in the Ballet are highly unified as they intentionally characterize the simplicity and passion of the working class. What, then, is the advantage of such model? The decisive factor is its accessibility. The frameworks of folk tunes and gestures of working people were the most relatable to the peasants, who, according to Mao, is able to secure the energy needed for revolution.
However, is this idea of unity perfectly compatible with the mentioned
political statement? Arguably, if one examines the Ballet’s form itself carefully,
one may come up with the argument that unifying forms of music and dance
contradicts anti-imperialism movement. While abandoning old practices and
rules, the application of model works is simply replacing the old with the new,
instead of actually overthrowing the concept of dictatorship. Such concerns are
also raised in criticisms towards Mao’s campaign of centralizing political
power at that time.
It is also worth mentioning that, when one regards it as an advertisement for consumerism according to Marianna Ritchey’s criticism, the use of unified musical functions in Mason Bates’ The (R)evolution of Steve Jobs is, in my opinion, comparatively successful. Bates’ consistent use of minimalist material and stereotypical interpretations of atonality (as something negative) are based on people’s conceptualization of “real” new music. At the same time, achieving accessibility through the mentioned use of material does not contradict the ideology of consumerism, hence totally effective.
“the East is Red”: Building Mao’s Personality Cult
Lin Biao, one of the most fervent supporters of Mao’s thoughts and the supposed successor of Mao, stated in the seven-thousand-people conference after the downfall of “Great Leap Forward” campaign that Mao’s policies during the campaign should be maintained as the correct path, and that people should develop absolute trust towards Mao’s decisions. Thus began the height of Mao’s personality cult, as he gradually purged the party of all his adversaries and initiated the Revolution.
Cultural Revolution Poster, “Closely follow Chairman Mao and forge ahead amid great storms and waves”, source: https://thediplomat.com/2016/05/how-far-is-china-from-another-cultural-revolution/
The ballet does the very best to enhance this sense of deity. Throughout the whole work, the image of Mao himself is never presented through an actual figure dancing on the stage; he only appears as a headshot on the red flags, high above all the performers, literally shining heavenly light upon them. In terms of musical writing, the harmonization and orchestration of folk tunes are fused with strongly sentimental western colors and overwhelming instrumental forces. The western concept of the Sublime, which was often related to religious experience since the classical era, is evidently manifested in such treatments of “the East is Red”.
“Deifying” Mao’s image in the ballet firmly establishes his personality cult; yet it also presents fundamental problems. The very beginning of the film uses orchestral rendition of “The Internationale” –a left-wing anthem frequently used by communists. One of the central ideas in the lyrics of this anthem is that there is no god nor savior who can save the people, but only the producers themselves can rise up to power. Yet “the East is Red” nevertheless states that Mao is the only savior of people, and that people should follow his steps. Even if the first performance of the ballet did not include “The Internationale”, this apparent religious tone of the work still contradicts with the original Maoist intention of showing the revolutionary will of the people stemmed from the people themselves.
The plot design of The (R)evolution of Steve Jobs, on the other hand, approach personality cult in a slightly different way. Through showing Jobs’ horrible personal behaviors and his late-year enlightenment, the narrative creates a mysterious, unpredictable figure that is supposed to fascinate people. The plot’s “elision of the global (history of corporation) into the personal (life and personality of Jobs)” is an effective camouflage to deceive people from, according to Ritchey, contemplating the actual negative influence that consumerism has brought about. In this way, Bates evidently raises up a “worship” of technology in personal products. Does it have the same problem as “the East is Red”? Only Bates himself can provide the answer. If it is true that Bates’ intention is to promote consumerism like Ritchey suspects, then he has fully succeeded.
The Red Musicians
Since the beginning of PRC, the Chinese government has been trying to establish icons of the nation in every cultural aspect. In terms of musical instruments, the government started to form large groups of musicians that resemble western orchestras by simply replacing sections in an orchestra with Chinese instruments that have the similar mechanisms (for example, the string section in western orchestra would be replaced by Huqin, the two-string fiddle of nomadic origins). The potential problem of this method is that, because Chinese traditional instruments originated from different cultural background (caused by diverse ethnicity and clear demarcation of social classes in the “Old China”), they don’t necessarily fit each other well as a group in orchestra—they were never meant to be played together.
Example of a “Chinese Orchestra”, source: https://www.easonmusicschool.com/chinese-orchestra-instruments/
The instrumentation of orchestra in “the East is Red” is literally impossible in present days. The blending of western and Chinese traditional instruments creates severe intonation difficulties, because of their different constructions and materials. I have never heard any orchestras of this kind that can play consistently in tune nowadays, not even when the orchestra consists of only Chinese instruments. However, throughout the film, while unison of the western and Chinese instrument frequently occurs, all instruments are almost constantly and perfectly in tune. This means that the performers had put tremendous amount of work into rehearsals in order to fulfill the western standards of decent orchestral playing.
Some of the beginning scenes of the film show that people of different
ethnicities come together to watch the ballet. This political message of
unifying the people is also shown in the mentioned selection of instruments;
and when all these instruments play perfectly in tune, they effectively project
the undeniable power of people’s union.
However, is it necessary to adhere to the western rules of intonation in order to show this power? Music in many parts of the world has developed interests in what we now call microtonal inflections, instead of actually playing in tune, which the Chinese traditional instrumentalists in the past did not prioritize at all. The problem in “the East is Red” is therefore apparent: on the one hand, the ballet is supposed to proclaim a refusal to western ideas, but on the other hand, it uses western formats of instrumentation and performance practices.
Conclusion
Deng Tuo–a Chinese journalist, intellectual, poet, and founding editor of the People’s Daily (major newspaper in China controlled by the CCP) –was one of the earliest victims of the Cultural Revolution. Faced by numerous accusations of anti-revolutionary contents in his writing, he committed suicide right before the official beginning of the Revolution, which was to cause a nation-wide catastrophe–countless were persecuted and killed. In his last words, Deng Tuo seems to claim with utmost sincerity that he did not intend to express any disagreement to Mao’s thoughts, and he swears his loyalty to the party. Arguably, it was, for the most part, the different standpoints of the readers of his writing that caused suspicion.
Deng Tuo, source: http://wiki.china.org.cn/wiki/index.php/File:Deng_Tuo.jpg
As a purely sensual experience, the ballet “the East is Red” is seductive and powerful in every aspect. Yet the political problems this production raises have left us with infinite potentials for contemplation. When a work is given a purpose, the interpretation of the work would change according to the audience’s understanding of the purpose itself. We can go on and question the intention and execution of all propaganda arts: when art is to convey a set of specific political messages, is it ever going to succeed?
Since its inception into American society, American popular music has, in some form, always been at the forefront of critiquing American politics. A plethora of songs have been written specifically to combat or call into view injustices shown in politics and a number of originals song have had their text or music changed to fit a message of political criticism. For instance, America’s national anthem, “The Star-Spangled Banner,” has had its fair share of rewrites in order to fit a certain issue or message. William Robin, in his article regarding Colin Kaepernick and the Radical Uses of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” quotes a temperance advocate’s text revision that peers into the reality of America’s drinking issue. The quote reads, “Oh! who has not seen by the dawn’s early light / Some poor bloated drunkard to his home weakly reeling.” Now, I absolutely love this method of using music to talk about politics; it grabs the listener in with a familiar tune with the intent of educating them on a real-world issue. As I’ve said before, there are a plethora of songs that have been rewritten to fit a cause, but none come close to the revision of “Ol’ Man River” that Paul Robeson wrote during the Civil Rights Movement.
Full discloser: Paul Robeson is one of my favorite basses to listen to and one of my favorite people to learn about. He was born on April 9th, 1898 in Princeton, New Jersey to Rev. William Robeson, a former runaway slave, and Maria Lousia Bustill, a Quaker. Without going into too much detail about his life, I can say that he received a scholarship to play football at Rutgers College, where he graduated class valedictorian. He went to Columbia Law School and soon after landed a job at a law firm, only to leave almost immediately after a white secretary refused to take dictation from him due to his race. It was at this point that Robeson decided to quit law to dedicate his life to his true passion of singing. Throughout his illustrious music career, Robeson worked with the likes of Eugene O’Neill, W.E.B. Du Bois, and James Joyce. But none of his collaborations would be as pivotal as his work with Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II in their groundbreaking musical Showboat. Most people identify Showboat as the defining show for American musical theater because it was one of the first musicals to fully integrate the plot of the show into the songs, which created a whole new form of storytelling. Although working in this play essentially made Robeson a sensation among American audiences, he saw his character Joe, a black dockworker singing about his troubles to the Mississippi River, as well as the hit song “Ol’ Man River” a bit demeaning to his pursuit of highlighting African American progression.
Paul Robeson in the movie version of Showboat
Understandably, Robeson didn’t appreciate the original lyrics that included the N-word to describe the type of workers working along the Mississippi nor did he appreciate the presentation of African Americans in this play as second class citizens. So, in an attempt to bring light to his feelings on the equal rights of black U.S. citizens, Robeson began in 1938 to rewrite the lyrics of this song in recitals. Similar to the pro tolerance writings put into the star-spangled banner, Robeson added text to “Ol’ Man River” that promoted African American freedom and strength. The famous line “There’s an old man called the Mississippi, that’s the old man that I’d like to be” was changed to “There’s an old man called the Mississippi, that’s the old man I don’t like to be” and the ending of the stanza “I get weary and sick of trying, I’m tired of living and scared of dying” was changed to “But I keep laughing instead of crying and I’ll keep fighting until I’m dying.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evwtK81KFrs
Through this decision to rewrite and perform this text, Robeson gained much prominence in the early stages of the civil rights movement, especially during the early part of the cold war. Unfortunately, Paul Robeson as well as many African American leaders of the Harlem Renaissance period saw the emphasis on racial equality in the Soviet Union as a model for the U.S. to look toward, which to many Americans marked them as Communist supporters. This labeling eventually got Paul Robeson blacklisted from Hollywood, thoroughly questioned and searched by the House Un-American Activities Committee, and unable to reach American audiences as he once was able to do.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLVqCGeK6JM
A recreation of Paul Robeson’s HUAC hearing by James Earl Jones
However, the effect Robeson was able to make on 20thcentury politics through his music was still a triumphant victory for African Americans searching for equality and a testament to the power of music against its environment. Music, as Robeson has shown, is a vital tool in sharing emotion and ideas which is why it has such a stronghold in the world of politics.
