Let Freedom Sing: The Music of the Civil Rights Movement

Culling through 60 years of recorded music with roots that go even deeper, Time Life has created an emotionally powerful anthology that demonstrates no art form has done a better job of chronicling and conveying the African American experience than music.

The three-CD set opens with “Go Down Moses,” a spiritual that was first recorded in 1914 by the Tuskegee Institute Singers. The version here is performed a capella by the gospel group known as The Southern Sons in 1941. The obvious parallels between the plight of the Israelites in Egypt and the unequal status of African Americans demonstrates why the Christian faith has resonated so strongly in their community. The song opens and closes with very somber vocals, contrasted against the middle section sung in an upbeat doo-wop style that reflects the jubilation faith can bring. There’s no change of moods or tempo when Billie Holiday delivers the gut-wrenching “Strange Fruit” from 1939, the oldest recording in the set. This haunting piece about lynching is just as powerful as when poet Lewis Allan wrote it.

Segregation and Jim Crow laws are dealt with in Josh White’s “Uncle Sam Says,” where inexplicably men who risked their lives for this country were treated as second-class citizens by the military, and Brownie McGhee’s cover of Big Bill Broonzy’s “Black, Brown, and White” with the refrain “if your white, you’re all right/ if you’re brown, stick around/ if you’re black, oh brother, get back, get back, get back.” The latter was taken from one of the few remaining copies available, but the audible scratch and hiss is acceptable knowing the song’s inclusion ensures it will be preserved. When an artist of Nat “King” Cole’s stature and acceptance in the White mainstream still had to point out “We Are Americans Too” in 1956, the issues were far being resolved.

It wasn’t just those who suffered from injustice that were aware of it and wanted it stopped. Ervin Drake wrote how there were “No Restricted Signs” in Heaven, performed by The Golden Gate Quartet. Although originally written in support of eleven Communist Party leaders convicted under the 1940 Smith Act, The Weavers’ “The Hammer Song (If I Had A Hammer)” the context of the song changed when Peter, Paul & Mary and Trini Lopez covered it. The children and young adults of the ‘60s decided “love between all of my brothers” included all races.

As people learned of the tragically unfortunate stories about the murders of Emmett Till and Medgar Evers, which were immortalized in many songs, such as Phil Ochs’ “Too Many Martyrs,” the frustrated questions by artists like Broonzy’s “When Do I Get To Be Called A Man?” and The Staple Singers’ “Why (Am I Treated So Bad)?” understandably turned to anger as churches were bombed and children denied entrance to schools. Nowhere was it more palpable than Nina Simone raging against the machine in “Mississippi Goddam” and she makes clear at the beginning that she means “every word of it.” Bob Dylan sensed what was “Blowin’ in the Wind,” and that song, combined with events like not being allowed to register at a whites-only Holiday Inn in Shreveport, LA, influenced Sam Cooke to write “A Change is Gonna Come,” sung here by Otis Redding.

Disc Two opens with Oscar Brown, Jr. demanding his “A Forty Acres and a Mule”. In a precursor to rap, his verbal riffs over a cool jazz rhythm section of bass and drums bring to mind the Beat poets.

The Impressions’ “People Get Ready” is a call to get involved and challenge the status quo, but being placed within a beatific hymn blunts its message. The gospel group The Mighty Clouds of Joy follows a similar tactic with their defiant “Nobody Can Turn Me Around.”

Aretha Franklin and all involved created one of the finest songs of all time with her cover of Redding’s “Respect.” This relationship song took on greater meaning in 1967 for those seeking equality and justice. The battles that had started in the south moved north and John Lee Hooker, joined by Buddy Guy on guitar, sings about a July ‘67 Detroit riot that lasted for five days in “The Motor City Is Burning.”

The assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a major loss in the civil rights movement and was understandably met with “Cryin’ in the Streets” as George Perkins & the Silver Stars sing. Smokey Robinson & The Miracles honored those who in the service of bettering the country lost their lives to an assassin’s bullet in “Abraham, Martin, And John.”

The mood of CD is lifted with moment of absurd humor, albeit derived from rage and anger, as Ray Scott delivers “The Prayer” written by Redd Foxx to segregationist Governor George Wallace. It wishes continuing and greater misfortune starting with the hope that he gets into “a 17-car accident/ with a gasoline truck/…Over the Grand Canyon,” has troubles with the ambulance, at the hospital, and with his corpse, and concludes with the worst condition of all: being black.

The call for self-respect comes from James Brown who wants his people to “Say It Loud – I’m Black and I’m Proud.” The Temptations reference the title in “Message From A Black Man.” The song suffers from way too much repetition of the lyric “No matter how hard you try you can't stop me now,” which is repeated for three minutes straight at the song’s conclusion. Nickie Lee echoes Brown’s sentiment with “And Black is Beautiful.” Bill Moss holds up examples of those who have done well in “Sock It To ‘Em, Soul Brother” like MLK, Willie Mays, and O.J. Simpson. The Juice will likely be cut from future covers of the song, but there’s no denying his importance in 1969.

Things were slowly improving but still far from where they should be so B.B. King explained “Why I Sing The Blues.” James Brown didn’t want welfare but opportunity, which is why he sang the funky “I Don’t Want Nobody To Give Me Nothing (Open Up The Door, I’ll Get it Myself). Syl Johnson achingly wonders “Is It Because I’m Black” that he is being held back in life.

President Obama’s rallying cry and his desire to “make this land a better land” may well have had its origins with Lee Dorsey’s “Yes, We Can,” which was written by Allen Toussaint.

Disc Three covers a lot of ground opening in 1971 and ending in 2008, coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb. While the cultural allusions of Gil Scott-Heron’s “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” are a product of its time, the power and emotion are ageless. The liner notes suggest it may be the first rap record, a claim I wouldn’t disagree with, and Chuck D calls him a genre forbearer.

Thinking money spent going to the moon could better be spent on Earth, Marvin Gaye sang about the struggles on the streets in “Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler). Bob Marley and the Wailers took the message of civil rights global with “Get Up, Stand Up.” The Isley Brothers turned that idea up a notch in 1975 with the suggestion to “Fight the Power.”

The ‘80s are represented by two songs, Jungle Brothers’ “Black Is Black” and The Neville Brothers’ “Sister Rosa,” and the ‘90s only by Chuck D’s “The Pride.” There should have been an explanation why the lack of representation from these decades. Was it licensing issues or limited choices in music due in part to improvements in civil rights? The liner notes make sure to mention Rodney King, the South Central riots, and the murder of James Byrd, Jr, and the country’s ills certainly deserve to be held up and never forgotten, but the gains and improvements should be equally presented and glorified.

The songs from the 2000s, while enjoyable, don’t have the same resonance and impact because they are commemorations of the past rather than declarations about the present. Gospel group Sounds of Blackness uses text from MLK’s “I Had A Dream” speech, and The Sojourners cover “Eyes On The Prize.” Their version was used for the 20th anniversary edition of the civil-rights documentary of the same name.

Solomon Burke, backed by The Blind Boys of Alabama, sings “None Of Us Are Free.” It’s a fantastic performance, but in comparison to his “I Wish I Knew (How It Would Feel To Be Free” from ’68, which is also contained in this set, this possible sequel doesn’t ring as true in 2002. Plus, The Blind Boys soon contradict him with their set-closing take on the traditional “Free At Last.”

Let Freedom Sing is not just a collection of great music; it’s an audio history book. It not only deserves a place in stereos, but in classrooms like other important documents of the United States. Every citizen should know the songs contained within.

Nina Simone: Live in ’65 & ’68

In its third wave of DVDs Jazz Icons presents Nina Simone from two different European television performances. The Holland 1965 session runs about 40 minutes and the England 1968 session runs about 23. In both she delivers personal, powerful performances that made her such a unique performer.

The Holland session opens with Oscar Brown Jr.’s “Brown Baby.” Simone is at the piano and Lisle Atkinson accompanies on bass. He plays so subtly underneath it is barely detectable. The lyrics reveal a mother’s wishes for her a little girl, “you’re gonna have things that I never had.” It’s especially poignant coming from an African American woman in 1965 as civil rights were still being fought for back home in the United States. The anguish on Nina’s face punctuates the song.

Simone’s “Four Women” has four different African-American women, each a different color, briefly tell their story. Aunt Sarah is black and has suffered long from racism, a pain that’s “been inflicted again and again and again.” Saffronia is yellow due to being biracial; her conception is marked by racism as she reveals “My father was rich and white/ He forced my mother late one night.” Sweet Thing, not likely her name, is tan and works as a prostitute. On the bridge, Simone strikes the keys harder and continues into the next verse, singing in a rougher voice. Peaches is brown and “awfully bitter these days/ because my parents were slaves.” Her rage against what she and her people have suffered is understandable and tragic if the previous women are all the archetypes she has. No wonder she’ll “kill the first mother I see.”

Simone covers Bob Dylan’s “The Ballad of Hollis Brown.” She changes the order of the lyrics of a brutal story about a man who suffers so much ill fortune that the only solution he sees for himself and his family is “the shotgun/ That's hangin’ on the wall.” Nina moves around on the piano bench like she’s riding horseback, sharing this tale of woe across the countryside.

Another highlight from Holland is “Mississippi Goddamn,” her response to events in the Civil Rights movement like the murder of Medgar Evers and the bombing of a church in Birmingham, Alabama where four black children were killed. She rejects the notion of having to go slow to gain acceptance and “equality/ for my sister my brother my people and me” from whites, and who could argue. The music is played like an upbeat jazzy show tune in contrast to the subject matter, but the juxtaposition doesn’t offset the emotion or power.

The England 1968 session for or Granada TV runs about 24 minutes. Simone opens with Morris Bailey’s “Go To Hell,” but the effect of her warning is blunted by how glorious she makes the song sound. “Ain’t Got No / I Got Life” is from the Broadway musical “Hair.” She details what she doesn’t have but then joyfully affirms what is important in life with her list of what she has got. Simone wrote “Backlash Blues” with Langston Hughes and plays it with a slow, funky rhythm as she calls out Mr. Backlash for thinking “that alla colored people/ Are just second class fools” and don’t understand they are being given “second-class houses/ And second class schools.”

Simone changes into an African dress and headscarf. She plays two abridged covers, coming in under two minutes. First, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ “I Put A Spell On You” and then Tin Pan Alley writer Bennie Benjamin’s “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood.” Simone mentions that The Animals had a hit with the latter, which came out a year after she recorded it. Her version is soft and subdued. She closes out the set with the gut-wrenching “Why? (The King of Love Is Dead)” written by her bassist Gene Taylor after Martin Luther King, Jr.’s assassination. The music plays like a gospel number as she wonders whether King died for something or in vein. In 1968 that had to be a question not only every African American pondered, but every decent person.

Nina Simone – Live in ’65 & ’68 is a great showcase of her talents because her songs and performances tell a greater story about the African-American experience, yet she makes it accessible to anyone willing to listen. Simone has that special gift to make music transcendent. This DVD is well worth checking out.

I Got The Feelin': James Brown in the '60s

The subtitle of this set is slightly inaccurate as almost all the content focuses on the year 1968, two of the DVDs specifically dealing with his concert at the Boston Garden the day after Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, but that doesn’t make the content any less compelling.

Disc 1 features the television documentary The Night James Brown Saved Boston, which aired on VH-1 on April 5, 2008, the 40th anniversary of the event. Cynics scoff at musicians who try to save the world with their songs, but many involved in the concert’s planning and those who were there at the time give credit to Brown for keeping the city safe from the inner-city rioting that was taking place across the United States in the aftermath of the Martin Luther King Jr. assassination.

White America was scared of what was happening, and Mayor Kevin H. White wanted to cancel the concert because the police couldn’t guarantee safety. African-American councilman Tom Atkins said that was a terrible idea because that plan could very well be the cause of a riot. In an effort to keep people off the streets, the mayor approached the local public television station to televise it live to keep people at home. People began returning tickets, which got back to Brown who was not informed of anything that was happening in Boston. All he knew was he was losing money, so he threatened to pull out unless he was guaranteed $60,000.

The details were worked out, although there’s disagreement about whether the full amount was paid, and the show went on, portions of which appear throughout, but towards the end things began to get out of control and had the chance to turn dangerous. Young African-Americans began to get on stage. Cops, mostly white, shoved people back into the audience, but Brown said he could handle it. Yet the fans kept coming. Finally, Brown stopped the show and chastised the revelers, asking for respect, not only for himself but for themselves. They finally listened and let him finish the show, which was immediately rebroadcast.

After the concert, the documentary deals with Brown’s rise as a leading figure for Black Americans, not necessarily as a political figure but through his music. He wrote songs like “Soul Power” and “(Say It Loud) I’m Black and I’m Proud.” He spoke out on issues when given the chance, yet he did what he believed. The Left turned on him when he went to entertain troops in Vietnam and later supported Nixon re-elected.

The documentary was well structured, mixing archival footage with modern-day interviews with Rev. Al Sharpton, Dr. Cornel West, Mayor White, Councilman Atkins, band members, concert attendees, and the television producers who helped provide context. Sharpton made the most interesting point about Brown’s music when he said that many black artists crossed over to white America, but Brown brought white America to black music. The archive material was a tad startling at times because “negro” was so commonly used and caught me off guard. Special features include additional interview footage and a panel with the filmmakers at the Boston premiere.

Disc 2 offers the concert in its entirety. Brown and the band deliver an awesome performance, playing hits like “It’s a Man's Man's Man's World,” “Please, Please, Please,” and “I Got You (I Feel Good).” The video is in black and white, and a couple of segments are missing but the entire radio simulcast captured it all.

Disc 3 presents “James Brown Live At The Apollo ’68.” Recorded in March of that year in color, it was shown on television as Man To Man. With the inclusion of the song “If I Ruled The World,” it is the same exact set as the Boston Garden show. There is a filmed segment for the television broadcast that shows Brown walking around Watts and Harlem, offering his thoughts on the conditions of the cities and its inhabitants.

The extras are what make the disc stand out and worth viewing. James Brown’s performance from The T.A.M.I. Show is an amazing spectacle. He dances up a storm and drives the crowd into a frenzy that is palpable through the screen and the ages. It’s not one of Brown’s biggest hits, but this clip is the one for the vaults.

There are also two clips from two different Paris concerts. Both songs make their third appearance in the collection. “I Got You (I Feel Good)” is shot mostly in close-up from the side, but you get to see how much he gives as his face is drenched in sweat. “It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World” is given an extended treatment compared to the other times when it was part of a medley, coming in at 10 minutes. This is the version to see as Brown is at his most evocative with the emotions of the song and the Hammond organ is awesome in support. Get this disc for this performance and consider everything else the bonus material.

I Got The Feelin’ is a great tribute to James Brown and his impact on the ‘60s, both musically and culturally.