The Influence of The Negro Spiritual on the Cello Music of African American Composers" (Guest Lecture-Recital, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Louisville, KY, 24 February 2009)...

Guest Lecture-Recital: "The Negro Spiritual as “Evolved Through The Oral Tradition”

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.  This evening’s program is a unique “exercise” in performance, written and lectured discussion of the music of African-American composers using the Negro spiritual as artistic “raw material”.  My doctoral dissertation at The University of Michigan was a series of three public recitals dedicated to the cello music of African-American composers. The third recital was originally conceived as a lecture-recital on the cello music of African-American composers using the Negro spiritual as artistic “inspiration”; however, other programming concerns prevented that plan from germinating to complete fruition. Fortunately twelve years later, this evening’s program serves to provide due “address” to this proposed lecture and performance topic.  My “lecture” might best open with a recited reference made to poetry, the poem “Yet Do I Marvel” of Countee Cullen, one of the poet laureates of the Harlem Renaissance: 

I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind,
And did He stoop to quibble could tell why
The little buried mole continues blind,
Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die,
Make plain the reason tortured Tantalus
Is baited by the fickle fruit, declare
If merely brute caprice dooms Sisyphus
To struggle up a never-ending stair.

Inscrutable His ways are, and immune
To catechism by a mind too strewn
With petty cares to slightly understand
What awful brain compels His awful hand.

Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:

To make a poet black, and bid him sing!  

In this poem the “undoubtable goodness” and “inscrutable ways” of God are given 

compact ponderance in the form of a sonnet.  The figures of Joseph or certainly Job 

might be nominally implied within this line of questions, which strangely appear in 

text without the expected marking of punctuation, but still contain the ironic word of 

inquisition--“why”.  Cullen calls upon more than just Biblical imagery to illustrate the 

“marvelous thing” that he is pondering.  He also includes the Greek mythological 

“deographies” of Tantalus and Sisyphus, who command notorious places in the anti-

pantheon of Olympian ne’er-do-wells!!  Tantalus was king of Lydia and son of Zeus, 

ruler of the gods. Tantalus was honored above all other mortals by the gods. He ate at

their table on Olympus, and once they even came to dine at his palace. To test their 

omniscience, Tantalus killed his only son, Pelops, boiled him in a cauldron, and served 

him at the banquet. The gods, however, realized the nature of the food. They restored

Pelops to life and devised a terrible punishment for Tantalus. He was hung forever from a 

tree in Tartarus and afflicted with tormenting thirst and hunger. Under him was a pool of 

water, but when he stooped to drink, the pool would sink from sight. The tree above him 

was laden with pears, apples, figs, ripe olives, and pomegranates, but when he reached 

for them the wind blew the laden branches away. The word tantalize is derived from this 

story. Such “immortal retribution”, while not of fire and brimstone, sounds ironically 

fitting for those who put God to the test by destroying what comes from God just to see 

what will happen as a result.  Sisyphus was king of Corinth--the son of Aeolus, king of 

Thessaly. Sisyphus saw the god Zeus carry off the beautiful maiden Aegina and told her 

father what he had witnessed. Enraged with Sisyphus, Zeus condemned him to Tartarus, 

where he was compelled for eternity to roll to the top of a steep hill a stone that always 

rolled down again.  This myth speaks of “Zeus venting his rage, with some humor thrown 

in for seasoning”.  While Tantalus was punished for “serving boiled Pelops”, Sisyphus 

was strangely whacked in Mafia-style Olympian retribution—just for being an 

informant!!  At least Aegina was a cute maiden; and obviously being condemned to 

Tartarus was the equivalent of being incarcerated at Alcatraz, Attica, Shawshank or Sing 

Sing!!  Humor aside, Cullen uses these presumably familiar figures in the American cultural 

imagination to personify the struggles of a heterogeneous people whose collective 

ancestors had arrived in what was to become the United States of America two centuries 

before he penned these words.  Due to the fact that sonnets do not traditionally attempt to 

recount detailed history as the saga would do, Cullen saves the true dilemma of his 

contemplation for the closing lines of this sonnet: the God would make a poet black (of 

all the colors of the “racial rainbow”) and make him to sing.

In her paper “O Black and Unknown Bards: The Influence of the Spiritual on American Poetry”, the poet Dee Galloway has written: “Whether referred to as Negro spirituals, black spiritualsor simply the spirituals, the legacy of these simple church songs and folk melodies, passed down from enslaved Africans in North America to their descendents, have had an unprecedented affect on every facet of African American life. Proliferating in the southern United States during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the use of these "sacred" songs was not limited to ritual worship, they served many functions within the slave community – from storytelling to battle cry – they have always been central in black America's struggle for freedom. Today through the work of such musical historians as Bernice Johnson Reagon, Horace Clarence Boyer and Arthur C. Jones, and the dynamic performances if such groups as Sweet Honey in the Rock and The Spirituals Project Choir, the spirituals continue to "speak" to American literature across time.  Poetry and song are essentially two sides of the same coin. They each utilize a kind of compressed language that relies heavily on the connotative and denotative meanings of words, and they each combine this language and imagery in unique ways to elicit or express particular ideas and feelings. 

Music and poetry were always commingled in African culture, and the early slaves brought this tradition with them. In the words of Olaudah Equiano, one of the first West African slaves to write the narrative of his own life: "We are almost a nation of dancers, musicians, and poets (Gates and McKay 143)." In West African culture, each village or tribal clan has its griot, a clan member who is both storyteller and historian. Before the written word, the griot memorized all of a village's significant events such as births, death, marriages, hunts and wars, ensuring the continuity of the collective heritage and culture of the clan. Often accompanied by drummers or the handclapping of the villagers, a griot could speak for hours, even days, drawing upon a practiced and memorized history, passed on from griot to griot for generations. It is said that "when a griot dies, it is as if a library has burned to the ground."[1]

She later writes in the same vein of discussion: “African American poets have always 

drawn from the vast well of material provided by the vernacular tradition. James Weldon 

Johnson, among many things a prolific writer and gifted poet, found his models in 

folklore, particularly in the spirituals and the folk sermons of the black church.” 

Here the varieties of “function” within the whole of the spiritual repertoire should be 

outlined, mainly to avoid the misconceived notion that all Negro spirituals were intended 

solely for use in worship. It should be stressed that the first singers that would form the 

now-legendary Fisk Jubilee Singers were former slaves, and the “sorrow songs” they 

would ultimately sing to the world were the hidden “code” songs that their ancestors used 

as signals for potential movement of fugitive slaves via the Underground Railroad

northward to freedom. Those same songs were certainly also the “collective property of 

the invisible church”, which held services and fed a dispersed and uprooted “flock” as 

they struggled to “sing the songs of Zion in a strange land”.  (Please refer to Psalm 137:4 

when considering this statement.)  Therefore, the varieties of “song-function” within the 

Negro spiritual tradition are the following: the work song, play song, teaching song, 

worship or sermon song, protest song, and of course, the “code song”.  In order for a 

spiritual to be used for manual labor, the only musical element that was a prerequisite 

was an even, singing or marching metrical structure [cf. “Every Time I Think About 

Jesus”, or Calvary”]. Play songs and teaching songs were intended for use with and 

among children.  The most fascinating thing about the recreational and teaching song is 

that they were so inventively deceptive in their structure and presentation (cf. “Oh, What 

A Beautiful City”, “Children, Go Where I Send Thee”—just like the “12 Days of 

Christmas”).  In this song, the dimensions of New Jerusalem are discussed, but that isn’t 

the “only” information being taught!!  Mathematics—multiplication and division and 

maybe some higher math as well are contained within the “twelve gates to the City—

Allelu!!” While most colonial “states” would make the teaching of a slave to read illegal, 

the spirituals occasionally served to supplant such “mal-legislative” intentions.  While 

many period memoirs of accounts with slaves described them as “childlike” and “happy 

when singing and dancing”, we are wise to remember that these descriptions are 

subjective measurements of the exception within this phenomenon of human behavior 

called chattel slavery--and not the rule.  The rule was the will of the slave-driver; and if 

the slave owner was not able to be on hand at all times, it fell to the “driver” to exact a 

Draconian control and vengeance against any and all slaves who disobeyed his orders in 

the fields, the slave cabins and every place else in between.  Songs of socialization and 

accountability were taught and perpetuated among the slave community [cf. “You Better 

Mind How You Walk/Talk”, and “Scandalize My Name”], of watching one’s attitude and 

action, and the avoidance of bearing false witness and keeping confidential information 

confidential.  The “code songs” were numerous--loosely fitted to suit the need of 

“classified message”: “Steal Away”, “I Couldn’t Nobody Pray”, “Follow the Drinking 

Gourd” (which also teaches astronomy!!), “Deep River, “Didn’t My Lord Deliver 

Daniel”, “Go Down, Moses”, etc.  The worship or sermon songs are the best known, and 

also appear to speak of an additional interesting tendency: the graduated degree of 

literacy among the preachers and teacher-composers moving amongst the slaves.  Some 

spirituals read and flow in close textual congruence with hymns of the Wesleyan 

tradition, implying that some of these spirituals may have been “communally composed” 

--as all of them are—but with the leading or aid of professionally-trained ministers 

having consummate skills in verse and Scriptural exegesis.  The best-known examples of 

this type of song would be: “There is a Balm in Gilead”, “Deep River”, “My Soul’s Been 

Anchored in the Lord”, etc. Other spirituals that may come from a tradition less-

connected to professional ministry: “In dat great getting’ up mornin’ (Fare Ye Well)”,  

“The crucified My Lord (an’ He never said a mumblin’ word”).

Without dwelling on the matter of song-categories for too long, I should also comment on 

a few interesting matters present among some of the spirituals as both song and “sung 

Biblical truth”:  Some spirituals provide mirror-like “insight” into the everyday issues of 

slave life.  The song “Shout all over God’s Heaven” is best known for its verse “I got 

shoes…”, which sounds palatable until one remembers that in Rev. 21:21, Heaven will 

have streets paved in gold so pure that it shines like transparent glass!!  I’d walk down 

such a street as that barefoot!!  It is known that in warmer annual climates (depending on 

the economic and personal provisions of the slave-owner, many slaves of working age 

went barefoot, and the younger slave children occasionally went naked.  The reality of 

“food and raiment” supercedes Biblical narrative in importance here for the slave.  

Therefore, the line “I got shoes, you got shoes, all God’s chillun’ got shoes…” makes a 

bit more sense than walking on glass, even if it does happen to be pure gold.  The 

opening line of the spiritual “Peter, go ring dem bells” sounds quite festive--but the 

gospel accounts contain no references to Peter going to any belfries or carillons to “ring 

dem bells”!!  And the phrase “Peter, go outrun John getting to the Tomb of Jesus” 

doesn’t make a good lyric!! Therefore, our communal composers occasionally took 

matters of some artistic and capricious license with the exact Biblical account (a largely 

oral account, mind you) while developing this large body of song repertoire.  It should 

also be borne in mind that the songs we still recognize may only be half of what would be 

were all the variants and obscure versions of these songs to survive.  

The next matter of my discussion here is the “metamorphosis” of the Negro spiritual, 

from a solo and communal folk song that of the choral anthem, solo art song and 

instrumental setting. The solo song (“sorrow song”) became communal when the song 

moved from individual to group utterance, often in work settings or worship settings.  

The communal song became an anthem when the spiritual moved from the free 

expressions of the “invisible church” into the material forms of organized Black 

denominational worship (cf. “Wade in the Water”, commentary the decline of the praise 

house traditions of the South Carolina Sea Islands).  This metamorphosis extends even 

further when we consider in terms of acculturation--what takes place when the various 

melodic and harmonic tendencies of Wesleyan hymnody meet the wide variety of 

melodic ideas coming from the “sound-cultures” of various regions of the African 

continent from which the imported slaves had been brought.  The spirituals heard this 

evening have been given the “aesthetic garb of western art-music”; obviously their style 

and manner still work very well in performance, and the beauty of the melody and the 

pathos of the words aren’t lost with audiences merely because the harmonization is added 

or changed to reflect a different artistic culture.  A list of composers of African descent 

(save one, who was Australian) numbers over thirty, and this list is by no means complete 

nor does it claim total accuracy: Harry T. Burleigh, Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, Robert 

Nathaniel Dett, William Dawson, Clarence Cameron White, Florence Price, Hall 

Johnson, William Grant Still, Edward Boatner, John W. Work, Arthur Benjamin*, 

Undine Smith Moore, Margaret Bonds, Thomas H. Kerr, Jr., Julia Perry, Zenobia Powell 

Perry, Hale Smith, Betty Jackson King, Barbara Cooke; Lena McLin; Jacqueline 

Hairston; John Coates; Moses Hogan, Frederick Hall, Edward Margetson, Nora Holt, 

Lettie Beckon Alston, Stephen M. Newby, William C. Banfield, Frederick Tillis, 

Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson, T. J. Anderson, Adolphus Hailstork, Mark A. Lomax, 

Marian Harrison, Trevor Weston--and the list always goes on and on!!  

The third and final use of the Negro spiritual as “natural resource material” for the 

developed art music tradition of African-American composers, in both vocal and 

instrumental traditions. This tradition is largely an artistic response to the now-legendary 

quote of Bohemian composer Antonin Dvorak, who stated that the seeds of a “great 

national school” could be found in the Negro spirituals that he learned from his close 

friendship with Harry T. Burleigh, one of his students at the National Conservatory of 

Music in New York City. The Lawrence Brown set, and the Barbara Cooke pair are 

examples of arrangements within the spiritual tradition extending to touch the “imported” 

Euro-American art-music tradition.  Yet they move and operate on a similar aesthetic 

wavelength as the vocal tradition of including spirituals on Classical recital programs.  

The difference that will be heard here is twofold: the idea of the “song without words” 

(chant sans parole or Lied ohne Worte) functions automatically, and the element of 

improvisation will play a role within and between the songs that will provide some 

measure of balance in the absence of conveyed message by sung words.

I close this lecture with the reading of the poem provided in your program, “O Black and 

Unknown Bards” by James Weldon Johnson, followed by the remainder of this evening’s 

program.

O black and unknown bards of long ago,

How came your lips to touch the sacred fire?

How, in your darkness, did you come to know

The power and beauty of the minstrel’s lyre?

Who first from midst his bonds lifted his eyes?

Who first from out the still watch, lone and long,

Feeling the ancient faith of prophets rise

Within his dark-kept soul, burst into song?

Heart of what slave poured out such melody

As “Steal away to Jesus”? On its strains

His spirit must have nightly floated free,

Though still about his hands he felt his chains.

Who heard great “Jordan roll”? Whose starward eye

Saw chariot “swing low”? And who was he

That breathed that comforting, melodic sigh,

“Nobody knows de trouble I see”?

What merely living clod, what captive thing,

Could up toward God through all its darkness grope,

And find within its deadened heart to sing

These songs of sorrow, love and faith, and hope?

How did it catch that subtle undertone,

That note in music heard not with the ears?

How sound the elusive reed so seldom blown,

Which stirs the soul or melts the heart to tears.

Not that great German master in his dream

Of harmonies that thundered amongst the stars

At the creation, ever heard a theme

Nobler than “Go down, Moses.” Mark its bars

How like a mighty trumpet-call they stir

The blood. Such are the notes that men have sung

Going to valorous deeds; such tones there were

That helped make history when Time was young.

There is a wide, wide wonder in it all,

That from degraded rest and servile toil

The fiery spirit of the seer should call

These simple children of the sun and soil.

O black slave singers, gone, forgot, unfamed,

You—you alone, of all the long, long line

Of those who’ve sung untaught, unknown, unnamed,

Have stretched out upward, seeking the divine.

You sang not deeds of heroes or of kings;

No chant of bloody war, no exulting paean

Of arms-won triumphs; but your humble strings

You touched in chord with music empyrean.

You sang far better than you knew; the songs

That for your listeners’ hungry hearts sufficed

Still live,—but more than this to you belongs:

You sang a race from wood and stone to Christ.

---

[1]I heard this phrase often while growing up, usually spoken by or about someone in the church who had died.  It wasn't until I was in my thirties that I took the time to find out what a griot was.