"What Good is a Song?"

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Marvin Gaye (source: wikipedia)
USA for Africa (source: wikipedia)
Peter Tosh (source: wikipedia)
Hugh Masekela (source: wikipedia)

The notion of singing three-minute songs about the moon and June didn’t interest me.
– Marvin Gaye

Here we have brought our three gifts and mingled them with yours: A gift of story and song – soft stirring melody in an ill-harmonized and unmelodious land; the gift of sweat and brawn to beat back the wilderness, conquer the soil, and lay the foundations of this vast economic empire two hundred years earlier than your weak hands could have done it; the third, a gift of the spirit.
– WEB Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folk

But there is a moral obligation, I think, not to ally oneself with power against the powerless. An artist, in my definition of the word, would not be someone who takes sides with the emperor against his powerless subjects.
– Chinua Achebe

This paper is a journey back – an exploration that looks at how black music in the United States, the Caribbean and South Africa became an integral part of progressive and broad-based 20th century socio-economic transformation initiatives.

It will explore the relevance, the impulse, and the socio-political context within which Marvin Gaye’s song: “What’s Going On”, USA for Africa’s “We are the World”, Peter Tosh’s “No Nuclear War” and Hugh Masekela’s “Stimela” were conceived and crafted. Upon release, each one of these songs was instantly transformed and catapulted into a treasure trove and a clarion call for humankind to close ranks, embrace one another, and act in unison in the struggle against common global challenges such as famine, poverty, workers’ rights, war, disease, racism and xenophobia, to mention but a few. Talk of the power of music. Talk of the seminal value of oratory or folk literature in social transformation.

In his magnum opus, The Souls of Black Folk, WEB Du Bois attests to the invaluable role that was played by the Fisk Jubilee Singers’ spirited performance of the “Sorrow Songs” in faraway places and in front of at times hostile and unappreciative audiences. This was a series of performances whose proceeds contributed to the realisation of a long-cherished dream, ie the conception and birth of Fisk University:

So in 1871 the pilgrimage of the Fisk Jubilee Singers began. North to Cincinnati they rode, four half-clothed black boys and five girl-women, led by a man with a cause and a purpose. They stopped at Wilberforce, the oldest of Negro schools, where a black bishop blessed them. Then they went, fighting cold and starvation, shut out of hotels, and cheerfully sneered at, ever northward; and ever the magic of their song kept thrilling hearts, until a burst of applause in the Congregational Council at Oberlin revealed them to the world.

They came to New York and Henry Ward Beecher dared to welcome them, even though the metropolitan dailies sneered at his “Nigger Minstrels”.

So their songs conquered till they sang across the land and across the sea, before Queen and Kaiser, in Scotland and Ireland, Holland and Switzerland. Seven years they sang, and brought back a hundred and fifty thousand dollars to found Fisk University. (1990:181–182)

In his collection of essays entitled Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Black Man, Henry Louis Gates Junior throws light on the context, substance and genesis of the 1980s song “We Are the World”:

Longevity is one advantage that the career of the activist has over that of the entertainer, and in the last couple of decades Belafonte has devoted most of his energies to charitable organizations, among them UNICEF; indeed, it was Belafonte who conceived the idea of “We Are the World”, the 1985 concert and recording that raised a hundred million dollars for famine relief in Ethiopia. (1998: 174)

Gates’s account on the centrality of Harry Belafonte’s role in this initiative is corroborated by several sources. It was perhaps fitting that an initiative of this scope and magnitude should be the brainchild of Belafonte, a man with a long and distinguished civil rights movement track record, who had also been involved in a number of worthy causes. Gates further enlightens us:

Belafonte’s involvement with the Civil Rights Movement in the sixties was no parlor project, and his friendship with King was no celebrity air kiss, either. Belafonte first met King in 1956, during the Montgomery bus boycotts.

Though the black clergy’s betrayals of Du Bois and Robeson had left him sceptical of the breed, King won him over by his humility and his earnestness. “I need your help,” King told him. “I have no idea where this movement is going.” An alliance was forged that lasted until King’s death. King was a frequent guest of Belafonte’s in New York, and Belafonte was one of the few who could serve as trusted conduits between King and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, on the one hand, and the Washington establishment, on the other.

He put up the seed money to support the newly founded Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. He financed a group that included Fanie Lou Hamer, Julian Bond, Bob Moses, Jim Foreman, and John Lewis to tour Africa and establish international liaisons there.

It was Belafonte who bailed King out of the Birmingham jail, and who raised money to bail out a number of jailed student activists. (1998:170–171)

Quincy Jones was lined up as the producer, and Michael Jackson and Lionel Ritchie were the song writers. The recording took place on the night of the American Music Awards, 28 January 1985. This was the perfect way to ensure that most of the artists would all be free on a single day. Eight hundred thousand copies arrived in stores on Tuesday, 7 March 1985. They were sold out by the first weekend. It entered the Billboard Hot 100 on 23 March, at number 21. It won Grammy Awards in 1985 for Song of the Year and Record of the Year.

The song, “We are the World” is written in the spirit of being your brother’s keeper. It is a clarion call to humankind to pool resources, close ranks and save the lives of starving families in war-torn Ethiopia. It is a call for human solidarity, and for global intervention against the scourge of hunger.

It is rooted in altruism and signifies a dogged determination to provide much-needed relief to the people of Ethiopia who were in economic distress:

We are the world |
We are the children |
We are the ones who make a brighter day so let’s start giving |
there a choice we’re making |
we’re saving our own lives |
It’s true we’ll make a better day just you and me …

The proceeds that accrued from the sale of this record would provide much-needed relief to the plight of the people of Ethiopia.

This Belafonte-led initiative was laudable. However, it was a short-term solution to a bigger problem.

At this stage, Ethiopia had all the hallmarks of a failed state because of poor political decision-making, because of bad economics and lack of visionary and principled leadership. So Ethiopia’s survival lay in sound and responsive governance, in sound economic policies, in a disavowal of violence as a solution and in putting people first.

In her book, Lyrical Protest: Black Music’s Struggle against Discrimination, Mary Ellison offers the following insightful analysis on causes of global poverty:

Poverty is still endemic in most countries of the world. The majority of people in Africa, Asia and South America live in poverty. Even in the industrialized countries of North America and Europe, poverty coexists with wealth and creates a discordant tension … In at least some of the countries that purport to be bastions of democracy, black people have fought for their rights as citizens of democratic societies. The concessions they have won have almost always been social rather than economic.

Consequently, they have never yet won a base from which to release themselves from the trap of poverty. Many black people have come to realize that such oppression is not simply a question of color.

In countries like the United States, white people as well as black are exploited and poverty-stricken but the color of black people’s skin has always made it easier for them to be identified as the ones to be kept in especially inferior positions. It is also evident that black rulers and capitalists in several African countries repress their own people as readily as the white colonialists who preceded them. (1998:17–18)

“We are the World” was a worthy project. It brought into sharp focus the glaring economic contradictions that are inherent in an uneven world.

In his illuminating biography, Divided Soul: The Life of Marvin Gaye, David Ritz provides this instructive anecdotal account, which is based on one of the numerous interviews he had with Marvin Gaye:

Meanwhile, Motown was looking for me to hit Vegas and play the big hotels in Miami. They kept screaming – "Why aren’t you in the studio? Where’s your record? When are you going to give us product?" Well, I couldn’t look at my music as product. (1991:140)

By now Marvin’s political consciousness could no longer be suppressed.

My phone would ring, and it’d be Motown wanting me to start working and I’d say "Have you seen the paper today? Have you read about these kids who were killed at Kent State? The murders of Kent State made me sick. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop crying. The notion of singing three-minute songs about the moon and June didn’t interest me. Neither did instant-message songs." (1991:140)

This marked a definitive moment and metamorphosis in Marvin Gaye’s career and musicianship. The days of music for pleasure or art for art’s sake would be a thing of the past for him.

Marvin Gaye had taken a principled and bold step towards reclaiming his creative spirit and voice, which had been held captive for so long by commercial interest-driven Motown.

Social consciousness would now supersede narrow commercial interests in his work. This stance would of course aggravate his fractious and at times troubled relationship with profit-driven Motown. Marvin had taken a revolutionary step from which there would be no turning back. David Ritz further writes:

“What’s Going On?” was the quiet moment in the raging storm that swept through so much of Marvin’s life.

In searching for subject matter, Gaye wisely chose to write about someone he knew – his brother. He made Frankie the main character of his work, looking back at America through the soul of his sibling. (1991:146)

“What’s Going On?” has a civil or human rights bent. Its tone is forthright in its disapproval or eschewal of war or violence, be it in Vietnam or in the United States – the location for its enactment is immaterial. The song can be read as being anti-war and pro-dialogue and by extension pro-democracy.

It centres constructive engagement as a viable alternative to blind rage, war, retribution, and destruction:

Father |
father|
we don’t need to escalate |
you see, war is not the answer |
for only love can conquer hate |
You know we got to find a way|
to bring some lovin’ here today.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What’s_Going_On_(Marvin_Gaye_album).

In the bar that appears below, Gaye makes an appeal for free, unhindered political demonstrations and dissent – an imperative in the advancement of democracy:

Picket lines and picket signs |
don’t punish me with brutality |
talk to me|
so you can see what’s going on.

Shedding more light on the impulse and context behind “What’s Going On?” Ritz writes:

The song, “What’s Going On?” as a narrative portrayed the turmoil and urban conditions as events. What’s Going On? as an album questioned the events and remained a work of art that engaged the listener. The music made the listener think and question their surroundings and living conditions. More importantly, What’s Going On? depicted a history that cannot be erased, changed or modified. Regardless of the ways the album can be defined, viewed, interpreted or heard, it exists in the form of music, poetry and art. It is a protest, a statement and narrative.

The musical way that the album summarizes the generation that preceded its release, while simultaneously protesting the issues of current everyday struggles, makes What’s Going On? one of the greatest artistic statements of the 20th Century. (1991:149)

The last word on the legacy of Marvin Gaye has to be from David Ritz – a man who had an intimate knowledge of Marvin Gaye and who spent a considerable amount of time travelling with him and interviewing him. In his book chapter titled “Sermon from the Studio”, Ritz paints the following glowing portrait of Marvin Gaye’s contribution to music and his legacy:

He revolutionized soul music by expanding its boundaries. He changed the direction of Motown by showing the sales potential of thought-provoking inner monologues.

In winning the fight for his own integrity, others – equally talented and capable of creating their own art – benefited: Stevie Wonder, who since age ten had been studying Marvin , and now another Motown pre-teen, Michael Jackson, who would eventually follow Gaye’s artistic lead as a singer, writer and producer. (1991:152–153)

In her book, Lyrical Protest: Black Music’s Struggle against Discrimination, Mary Ellison examines the stellar role that has been played by music in denouncing war as a solution to conflicts:

The specter of a holocaustic war has hung over the world ever since Hiroshima and Nagasaki demonstrated the long-term devastation inherent in the use of the atom bomb. There is now the constant fear that even a small, apparently containable, war could escalate into a conflict in which nuclear bombs might be used. Songs for peace and songs that attack the stupidity and waste of war are all, to a greater or lesser extent, directed at this fearsome possibility. Barbara Mason voiced the universal fear in 1974 when she sang that if people keep resorting to violence and war, the world “soon will be rubble”. Stevie Wonder echoed her sentiments and sang on “Higher Ground” that the world will not keep on turning much longer if governments keep on lying while their people are dying.

A few years later he played harmonica on a Brenda Russell album, Two Eyes, on which one of the strongest tracks, “Look Down, Young Soldier,” predicted total devastation if wars did not end. The Womacks, Cecil and Linda, think that every singer and every politician should denounce war. “We definitely identify with peace; it’s the only way human society will survive.” (1989:138)

In his book, There ain't no Black in the Union Jack: The Cultural Politics of Race and Nation, Paul Gilroy offers the following testament on the invaluable role played by music in advancing worthy political causes:

Stevie Wonder’s involvement in the campaign to secure US public holiday for Martin Luther King’s birthday provided a further opportunity for black music to become politically engaged and, of course, drew attention to the political legacy of the 1960s which was being commemorated. In support of this campaign, a number of records including Wonder’s own “Happy Birthday” (issued with selections of King’s speeches on the B-side) addressed themselves to both King’s death and the continuing relevance of his political achievements. In both rap and more conventional soul styles, some of these tunes even used tapes of King’s own voice to develop their arguments. The most interesting of these were Bobby Womack’s “American Dream” and Martin Luther by Hurt 'em Bad and the SC Band. Both featured extracts from the “I Have a Dream” speech, the latter setting the scene with a rap about the struggle for desegregation. (1991:185)

And in the preface to Nothing but the Blues, Lawrence Colin’s comments are equally instructive:

The blues has helped me through troubled times, blessed me with meeting countless interesting and fascinating individuals associated with the genre, afforded lessons in American history that could not be gained through books, given me a rich insight into society – and societies – through music and poetry, and has thoroughly ingrained the concept that the blues is not only a people’s music, blues is the music of the people. (1993:11)

Another musician who made a contribution or took a stand against the phenomenon of war is the late Peter Tosh, a native of the Caribbean Island.

In the song, “No Nuclear War” which he released in the 1980s at the height of the cold war, Tosh projects himself as the voice of the voiceless victims of nuclear war:

Pleading for them |
they can’t take no more |
Can’t you hear me pleading for them |
they want to live in peace and happiness ...

Throughout the song, Tosh is very explicit in his denunciation of nuclear warfare. He also denounces visionless and irresponsible world leaders for their skewed priorities and their failure to channel resources towards more pressing global challenges such as child mortality, health care, poverty, political instability and homelessness:

Too many people go hungry |
they don’t have food to eat |
they are naked |
cause they don’t have clothes to wear |
they are going insane |
because of the condition |
a million babies are suffering from malnutrition.
http://www.allmusic.com/album/No_Nuclear_War_mw.

This can also be read as a pro-life song that paints a portrait of an economically uneven world that prioritises war over life, health care and human progress. It is a pity that right into the 21st century world leaders are still at each other’s throats over the dangers posed by weapons of mass destruction. The current debate around Syria and its supposed use of nuclear arms is a case in point. Are songs such as “No Nuclear War” an exercise in futility? Do they change mindsets and attitudes?

In Lyrical Protest: Black Music’s Struggle against Discrimination, Mary Ellison offers the following insights from Joe Bowie’s take:

Funk Jazzman Joe Bowie is more sceptical.

Even though one of his most impressive albums with his band, Defunkt, is called Thermo-nuclear Sweat, and he has rearranged the song of that name from his first album, he thinks, “It’d be nice if we could do something about it, I don’t think we can, because of the way the governments, the world, is structured. See, the people who make nuclear war ain’t going to be hit by it in the same way as the rest of us.

And the people who cry out against it are the ones who do the fighting basically, either economically or physically. So it’s kinda hard to change all the people who have all the money and all the control, either way they’re still gonna be cool. It’s impossible, I believe, for us to get rid of the threat unless we get rid of those people first.” Yet Bowie still considers it worth attempting to influence minds and hearts through music: “I mean, I’d like to get a record out about it before the war itself. It gets an even more pressing issue with each day that passes, with all the cold wars we’ve got, and getting hotter. I really do believe we’re moving towards nuclear disaster, quickly.” (1989:139)

World-renowned and South African-born trumpeter Hugh Masekela is also an integral member of those progressive artists who consciously deployed their repertoire in order to advance the cause of the voiceless and down-trodden. His well-known song, “Stimela” (The Coal Train) is a case in point.

It is a working-class song in which Masekela speaks with a distinctly recognisable and disillusioned mine worker's voice in which he lays bare the nature of the vicissitudes and challenges that mine workers had to contend with on a daily basis in the gold mines of Johannesburg. At the beginning of the song, Masekela speaks to the eclectic and migratory outlook of these mineworkers and their mode of transport:

There is a train that comes | from Namibia and Malawi |
There is a train | that comes from Zambia and Zimbabwe |
There is a train that | comes from Angola and Mozambique |
From Lesotho |from Botswana | from Swaziland | from all the hinterland of Southern and Central Africa ...
http://myspace.com/hughmasekela/music.song/stimela

From the eclectic and diverse composition of this work force, Masekela then proceeds to give us a portrait of their working and living conditions – which are appalling and dehumanising. Their relationship with their employer is skewed, parasitic, inhumane and purely profit-driven.

Their general welfare is not seen or regarded as an imperative. We do well to quote Masekela here:

This train carries young and old African men | who are conscripted to come and work on contract |
in the golden mines of Johannesburg | and its surrounding metropolis |
sixteen hours or more a day | for almost no pay.

This section of the song speaks directly and unequivocally about the dehumanisation of workers and the violation of their rights and dignity.

Add to this the erosion of the family unit as these workers were not allowed to bring along their loved ones – a recipe for the disintegration of the sacrosanct family unit.

The theme of dehumanisation is ubiquitous in the song:

Or when they dish that mish mesh mush food | into their iron plates with the iron shank |
or when they sit in their stinking, funky, filthy, flea-ridden barracks | and hostels.

Here Masekela portrays a militaristic environment that is perfectly in sync with the word “conscripted” which he deploys at the beginning of the song – it is an unhygienic and disabling working environment. It is also an environment that induces homesickness and anxiety to these displaced mineworkers when they think about the reality of not seeing their families again:

They think about the loved ones | they may never see again |
Because they might have already been forcibly removed | from where they last left them |
or wantonly murdered in the dead of night.

This places the workers in a dilemma or bind of some sorts: They need the jobs and the low wages that are part of the deal for survival; they also miss their families and fear for their demise.

They are equally apprehensive about the possibility or reality of losing their other source of income, namely their land and their cattle. At the end of the song, Masekela talks about the love-hate relationship that these workers have with the train that facilitated their displacement:

And when they hear that choo-choo train |
they always curse, curse the coal train |
the coal train that brought them to Johannesburg.

This is one Masekela’s most loved songs – not only in South Africa but the world over. The recent Marikana massacre in South Africa in which the police shot at disgruntled and toy-toying mineworkers reminded the rest of the world that even in post-apartheid South Africa, profit supersedes the dignity and general welfare of workers.

It was the very same Hugh Masekela who crafted, “Bring Him Back Home (Nelson Mandela)” – a song which upon release immediately assumed the status of an “international anthem” because of its wider appeal and popularity. The lyrics of the song added impetus and voice to the international campaign to free Nelson Mandela from prison:

Bring back Nelson Mandela |
Bring him back to Soweto |
I want to see him walking down the streets of South Africa.
http://www.allmusic/song/bring_him_back_home

Not only that – the song also calls for Mandela’s reunion with his long-suffering wife, Winnie. Winnie suffered enormous physical, emotional and psychological abuse during her husband’s protracted absence. She was also subjected to lengthy banning orders and detentions but her spirit remained unbroken and her commitment and activism remained remarkable, relentless and undaunted.

The joyous chorus is extremely moving and life affirming. Recorded in 1986 for his Tomorrow album, the song – and its wish – became a reality when Mandela was released in 1990, and it was played during his many visits to America following his release, as well as on numerous television broadcasts. A truly classic modern-day folk song, it remains a favourite in Masekela’s live repertoire and was rightfully included on the fabulous 2001 Columbia collection, The Best of Hugh Masekela. http://www.allmusic/song/bring_him_back_home

Black music has not been mute in the terrain or sphere of gender equity. Here is palpable evidence from a song entitled “Do Right Woman, Do Right Man” by the Queen of Soul, Aretha Franklin, where she exhorts society:

A woman’s only human ?
you should understand ?
she’s not just a play thing ?
she’s flesh and blood just like her man.
Yeah, yeah they say that it’s a man’s world ?
but you can’t prove that by me ?
and as long as we’re together, baby ?
show some respect for me.

Aretha Franklin’s tone in this song is neither adversarial nor antagonistic: rather, it is a call for congeniality and reciprocity in relationships between men and women.

Each song selected in this paper discourses cogently about the critical role that artists can play in social transformation. Each song also becomes a signifier and a register of the artist’s and people’s sentiments. Each song speaks to the confluence and synergy between music/art and social activism.

In conclusion, the following excerpt from Quincy Jones’s song, “What Good is a Song?” speaks directly to the sort of obligations that artists have to society:

If a song has no meaning |
If it cannot send you higher |
it is not good enough to sing.

Bibliography
Achebe, C. 2012. There Was A Country. New York. The Penguin Press.
Belafonte, H and Makeba, M. 1965. An Evening with Belafonte/Makeba. Marketed by BMG Records Africa.
Cohn, L. 1993. Nothing but the Blues. New York. Abbeville Press.
Coplan, David, B. 2007. In Township Tonight. Auckland Park: Jacana Media.
Du Bois, WEB. 1990. The Souls of Black Folk. New York: First Vintage Books, with an introduction by Edgar Wideman.
Ellison, M. 1989. Lyrical Protest. New York: Praeger Publishers.
Franklin, A. 1971. Aretha’s Greatest Hits. Atlantic Records. Marketed and distributed by Tusk Music Company (Pty) Ltd.
Gates, Henry Louis Jr. 1998. Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Black Man. New York: Vintage Books
Gaye, M. 2009 What’s Going On. Classic. Marketed and distributed by Universal Music Group.
Gilroy, P. 1991. There ain’t no Black in the Union Jack: The Cultural Politics of Race and Nation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What’s_Going_On_(Marvin_Gaye_album)
http://www.inthe80s.com/weworld.shtml
http://www.allmusic.com/album/no_nuclear_war_mw
http://myspace.com/hughmasekela/music/song/stimela
http://www.allmusic/song/bring_him_back_home
Masekela, H. 2008. “Mandela” (Bring Him Back Home) in Freedom Jazz: The Sound of the New South Africa. Marketed by Sheer Sound. Distributed by IRIS.
Ritz, David. 1991. Divided Soul: The Life of Marvin Gaye. New York: Da Capo Press.
“We are the World.” 1985. USA for Africa. Distributed by Poly Gram Records.

 

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