What is the role of music in social change?

Plus, Louder Than A Riot unpacks gender discrimination at The Source

View this email online April 29, 2023 by Stephen Thompson This week, we’re thinking about the intersection of music, activism and fame; plus, a powerful new episode of Louder Than A Riot and a few pieces that remember Harry Belafonte. Hannibal Lokumbe, composer of The Jonah People: A Legacy of Struggle and Triumph. Michael Loccisano/Getty Images for HBO I’ve got a huge project dropping on the NPR Music website next week — get those appetites whetted for 5,600 words of hard-hitting “Weird Al” Yankovic content! — so I’m especially grateful to my dear friend and colleague, Ann Powers, for writing the leadoff note to this week’s newsletter, a lovely essay about the role music plays in social change. —Stephen Thompson   *** Here’s a perennial question: What is the role of music in social change? In my hometown of Nashville, voices have been raised and drums beaten in protest in recent weeks, as people have filled plazas and streets calling for an end to gun violence after the Covenant School shooting in March. I noticed many people taking to their social-media platforms, calling for Nashville stars from the country and pop worlds to weigh in. And it worked: Recently, a group including Sheryl Crow, Margo Price and Amy Grant met with Gov. Bill Lee to discuss regulating gun ownership. That influence is important. And yet my own ideas about what matters most, musically, in civic discourse had been rearranged by two recent encounters with creative minds thinking beyond the assumption that some voices can do more than others. The first occurred at an evening presented by Vanderbilt University and Chatterbird, Nashville’s premier new-music ensemble. Compositions by Blair School of Music faculty were juxtaposed with short testimonies by activists and scholars in a thought-provoking mix. Music-wise, I was struck by Molly Herron’s chamber work “An Opening Goodbye” — a sometimes frenetic, sometimes poignantly harmonious piece Harron is composing over a 12-year period as “a ritual of saying goodbye to the planet earth as I knew it before the climate crisis.” Herron’s music makes space for the sounds of the natural world, translated by Chatterbird’s players, in ways that open up the conversation about climate, taking it beyond human voices altogether. It reminded me to pay attention to the signals emanating from my own backyard — from the bushes killed by an unexpected polar vortex this past winter and the rabbits, deer and foxes searching for new habitats as endless development destroys their homes. Herron’s music placed no one instrument above any other within its dense passages. In that way, it echoed a short talk given earlier in the evening by the singer-songwriter Alex Wong, who’s been central in organizing the music at many recent protests. Wong described a true popular movement that sustained itself for a golden moment, but which was altered when old habits of thinking took over. (I’ve condensed his words slightly for clarity’s sake.) “We showed up early in the morning with a pretty varied group, in terms of celebrity status, follower count, all the trappings,” he said. “There wasn’t a stage. We were part of the crowd, moving with the crowd and singing with the crowd. The usual social hierarchies melted away. At some points, the musicians would back up and let the crowd take over, when a chant needed to happen to help people channel their anger. It felt really good. “In subsequent protests, more musicians wanted to get involved and each day had a different tone,” he continued. “Some days, the mood was too angry to do songs about peace and love, and you couldn’t tell that unless you were inside the crowd. We were responding to that, letting what needed to happen happen. But by Monday, those old unspoken rules started to calcify again. There was a big stage set up where, a few days ago, everyone was gathered together. Now there was a separation. The security team that was volunteering on the first day to keep the crowd safe, on the last day were tasked to keep the crowd away from the celebrities. I’m not saying anything was wrong or right, but for a moment when those unspoken rules had melted away, there was a real magic, a sense of possibility. I hope we can identify where those moments can happen more.” I spoke with Wong later and he clarified that he does feel that high-profile artists like Margo Price (“she was in the trenches from the beginning,” he said) and Emmylou Harris have an important role in raising consciousness beyond activist circles. But his words stuck with me. So often, especially on social media, anger coalesces around the silence of celebrities. For Nashville, that mostly means mainstream country artists, most of whom are about as likely to speak up politically as right-wing exception Kid Rock is to down a can of Bud Light. Wong’s words made me wonder why we care so much about what stars say — because in an increasingly decentralized music world, the real influence comes from within niches and neighborhoods, and because some stories need to be told by an amplified “we” that the individualism of celebrity can never replicate. This feeling was reinforced a couple of weekends ago, when I lucked into a ticket for an extraordinary performance at Nashville's Schermerhorn Symphony Center. It was the premiere weekend for The Jonah People: A Legacy of Struggle and Triumph, the newest work by 74-year-old jazzman and composer Hannibal Lokumbe. This epic celebration of the African-American spirit as it has survived from the Middle Passage through slavery and Jim Crow and into the age of bebop is not your usual diva/divo vehicle. Instead of foregrounding its tragic heroines and freedom-seeking heroes, Lukumbe’s scenes unfolded like tapestries, with a booming chorale leading each turn of the harrowing story and an ensemble of dancers, soloists and supporting players raising images of slave auctions, field rebellions and rituals enacted at lost souls’ graves. From the teeming chaos of the slave ships to the defiant dance of joy centuries later in Old Plateau Cemetery in the historic community of AfricaTown in Alabama (where Lokumbe himself joins in the gathering every year that reclaims the souls carried there on the Clotilda), The Jonah People shows how survival relies on connection — with family, with a people, with the spirits that survive the deaths of their bodies through the stories that must be nurtured and passed down. The Jonah People featured star turns — particularly by the mezzo-soprano Debo Ray, whose singing as the matriarchal ancestor of Lokumbe’s own family bled beyond classical technique to encompass the historical range of Black vocalizing. And when Lokumbe himself joined the ensemble in a scene set at Minton’s Playhouse, the Harlem club where bebop’s resistance rhythms were incubated, the audience anointed him with cheers. But what it did best was raise that magic Wong had mentioned — the dissolution of even the most brutal hierarchies through the invocation of a multi-generational “we.” I needed to feel this spirit of immortal human community right now. So much pain and disorder runs through all of our lives today — random catastrophes, preventable acts of violence, the creeping question of whether democracy will even survive the damage of the past few years. Herron’s composition, Wong’s words and Lokumbe’s epic all point toward a way — not a way out of today’s mess, but a way to endure it. A way that has room for the least acknowledged voices next to the most celebrated ones. Together, those voices can lead a listener toward something new.   Participate in Public Media Giving Days Next week, we are celebrating Public Media Giving Days. Our work is only possible through the help of listeners, readers and supporters like you. We don’t have investors, owners, or shareholders. We hold ourselves accountable to you. If public media has ever made a positive impact in your life, we hope you’ll consider donating and supporting our mission. Every single gift makes a difference. Donate today. Newsletter continues after sponsor message More to watch, read and hear The newest episode of Louder Than A Riot tells the story of Kim Osorio, a journalist who became the first female editor-in-chief of the hip-hop bible, The Source magazine, in 2002. After complaining to The Source’s HR department about what she described as inappropriate behavior in the office, she was fired, prompting a lawsuit alleging gender discrimination, sexual harassment and hostile work environment, retaliation and defamation. The Louder team uses the case as a jumping-off point for a larger discussion of sexual harassment in hip-hop media, in the process weaving another thread into a season-long tapestry that illuminates the race and gender-based power imbalances hip-hop has never quite dealt with. There’s no small irony in the fact that Osorio’s case could have been a step toward that reckoning. Singer, actor, activist and legend-among-legends Harry Belafonte died Tuesday at the age of 96. Fresh Air remembers Belafonte here, while Pop Culture Happy Hour recommends three of his most memorable film performances. I’m Really Into is NPR’s lovely series of essays about passions, and marvelous former NPR Music intern Pilar Galvin just wrote one in which she sings the praises of music festivals. It’s a smart and thoughtful piece, though I offer as a counterpoint the 2002 article from The Onion titled “Outdoor-Music-Festival Grounds Mistaken for Refugee Camp.” Alt.Latino’s latest episode surveys a great new batch of music, as hosts Anamaria Sayre and Felix Contreras recommend a collaboration between Bad Bunny and regional Mexican group Grupo Frontera, plus other new songs from Becky G, Gaby Moreno, Esteman and more. I hesitate to recommend this week’s episode of All Songs Considered because it’s hosted by Bob Boilen, but if you can withstand his presence, he’s got new songs by Michael Stipe (with 2016 Tiny Desk Contest winner Gaelynn Lea!), Abraham Alexander (with Mavis Staples!), Bees in a Bottle, Wallice, Cowboy Junkies and Angelo De Augustine. Similar situation with New Music Friday, where Robin Hilton’s inexplicable presence is offset by wonderful new music from Labrinth, Baby Rose, Joy Oladokun, Smokey Robinson and Jessie Ware. Montreal’s Chiiild describes its sound as “synthetic soul.” Watch a session recorded live at WNXP’s Sonic Cathedral. Tiny Desk Grace Widyatmadja/NPR It’s always a good sign when a Tiny Desk performer kicks off a sound check by asking, “How loud can we be?” Last year, guitarist Bill Orcutt put out the self-explanatorily titled Music for Four Guitars, on which he played every one of those guitars himself. He couldn’t very well do that at the Tiny Desk, though, so he brought three sure hands (six, really) in Wendy Eisenberg, Ava Mendoza and Shane Parish. The result is wild, strange, noisy and beautiful — and, not for nothing, Steve Albini-approved. Also this week: Cuco blends the soul of chicano ballads and the smooth energy of soft rock. One More Thing As half of the impeccably named A Winged Victory for the Sullen, Dustin O’Halloran is one of the world’s greatest purveyors of head-filling orchestral ambient music. He’s just remixed a song called “ok” by the Icelandic band Hugar, and it’s a deeply melancholy stunner.   Listen to your local NPR station. Visit NPR.org to hear live radio from WUFT 89.1 (edit station). Need a new playlist? Follow NPR Music on Spotify and Apple Music What do you think of today's email? We'd love to hear your thoughts, questions and feedback: nprmusic@npr.org Enjoying this newsletter? Forward to a friend! They can sign up here. Looking for more great content? Check out all of our newsletter offerings — including Books, Pop Culture, Health and more! You received this message because you're subscribed to NPR Music emails. This email was sent by National Public Radio, Inc., 1111 North Capitol Street NE, Washington, DC 20002 Unsubscribe  |  Privacy Policy