When the Italian high school students sang “No More Auction Block for Me” for us during our exchange visit while we were on tour to Venice, Tuscany, Umbria, and Rome last month, I was surprised by how much I learned from that singular experience.
First of all, the Italians clearly loved the song. The diction was cringey, but I guess it was the thought that counted. Still, I felt uncomfortable the whole time.
Second, after the exchange was over and we were returning to our hotel, I explained my experience to one of my colleagues. I had decided the students’ performance lacked connection, depth, and authenticity, which is why it had been difficult for me to watch and hear.
Third, considering my second point above, my colleague helped me realize that in my heart I was being a bit elitist and ungrateful. Here they sang an African-American spiritual – this was their tribute to my country. What an honor! No, these Italian kids can never understand and express a spiritual like I can. But they clearly connected to something universal and transcendent in that music. Renditions of spirituals (like a lot of treasured folk music) have value and depth beyond authenticity and technique. And I should always remember that point, especially when the tables are turned and I’m trying to do justice to music that’s not from my own land. I love so many different kinds of music, and I have so much to learn. I would hate to be judged in the same way I initially internally judged those sweet Italian kids.
Fourth, the fact that these children learned and sang a spiritual is a miracle and a testament to the global influence of these works. Now that these young Italians, thanks to their enlightened instructors, know this song (even if only on a surface level), the seeds of authentic understanding and connection between our peoples might take root and grow. How amazing is that?!
Fifth, I might not have learned this lesson if I hadn’t traveled away from home. I believe it is vital to leave home, to see the world and connect with different cultures. I was humbled by the hospitality of the Italians I met. Until I was embraced as a tourist in Italy, I had forgotten how important it is to understand my African-American heritage in the context of my American identity.
So then I thought, “what other versions are there of ‘No More Auction Block for Me?” It’s not one of the spirituals with which I am most familiar. Here are a few that I found:
As we have just finished celebrating the birthday of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and since Black History Month is right around the corner, here is a quote I shared with my Unitarian Universalist siblings at our recent UU MLK Choir Festival held at Pasadena’s Neighborhood Church. It’s a passage from Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates:
“In other words, I was part of a world. And looking out, I had friends who too were part of other worlds – the world of Jews or New Yorkers, the world of Southerners or gay men, of immigrants, of Californians, of Native Americans, or a combination of any of these, worlds stitched into worlds like tapestry. And though I knew I could never, myself, be a native of any of these worlds, I knew that nothing so essentialist as race stood between us. I had read too much by then. And my eyes – my beautiful, precious eyes – were were growing stronger each day. And I saw that what divided me from the world was not anything intrinsic to us but the actual injury done by people intent on naming us, intent on believing that what they have named us matters more than anything we could ever actually do. In America, the injury is not in being born with darker skin, with fuller lips, with a broader nose, but in everything that happens after.”
Ben Bollinger, aka “Mr. B”, died on October 17. He founded the Citrus Singers and was chair of the Citrus College Music Department for decades. He also created the Candlelight Pavilion Dinner Theatre in Claremont, and helped numerous aspiring musical theater singers to realize their dreams.
I was a Citrus Singer for one year, and one year only: 1997-98. I had graduated from LACHSA, not knowing what do to with myself. My college auditions hadn’t been very successful. I had been accepted to Berklee College of Music in Boston, but decided not to go, wary of the cost and afraid to leave home. I didn’t know if I should study jazz or classical music. I had dabbled at composition – maybe I was a singer-songwriter or a film composer. I certainly hadn’t given any thought to pursuing conducting or teaching. I was pretty lost. I figured I’d stay home for a year, take care of some GEs, get a part-time job, then transfer to a conservatory or 4-year school or something.
When I first went to Citrus College and met Mr. B, I wasn’t impressed by him, and he wasn’t impressed by me. I think we were both kinda arrogant. I didn’t really know anything about the Citrus Singers. And while others might have been impressed, he didn’t really care that I came from LACHSA. There were tons of other students auditioning for Citrus Singers who were extremely excited — and extremely competitive. Mr. B said that first-years rarely make it into the top group.
Then I nailed the audition. I think I was 1 of 2 first-years to make it that year. I believe Mr. B was satisfied with me. And my eyes were opened to musical worlds I hadn’t even imagined. From then on, he was always kind to me. I looked up to him.
Manny Mota
At the beginning of the school year, Mr. B arranged for me to receive a scholarship from the Manny Mota Foundation so I could go on tour to Europe for free with the Citrus Singers. I had no idea who Manny Mota was. I couldn’t even believe traveling to Europe to sing was actually a possibility for me! I don’t know what kind of strings he had to pull; I don’t recall having to compete or fill out any paperwork. All I know is that Mr. B made it so that I never ever had to worry about money so long as I showed up and sang at every rehearsal and every performance.
Shoes just like these!
I bought my first tan T-strap character shoes, and had them rubbered and braced. I took my first dance classes: 2 hours, twice per week. I was extremely uncoordinated, and I don’t think I ever mastered a single dance combination. (God bless John Vaughanfor trying to teach me). For about 12 weeks, I had choir rehearsal with either Mr. B or Michael Skidgel every single day for 2-4 hours Monday through Thursday, and for 6-8 hours over Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I learned my first works by Lauridsen, Vaughan Williams, Victoria, Kodály, Byrd, Dello Joio, Bruckner, Verdi, Gabrielli, Elgar, Rachmaninov…
We memorized EVERYTHING. And on top of the standard choral rep, we had to learn 2 hours worth of music for our “pop casuals.” I learned how to wrap microphone cords. I had my first ever costume fittings and learned how to wear fake eye lashes and makeup. I performed in dance tights and short dresses made of silver and blue sequins. I had a tin container to hold the costume pearls and corsage that went with the taylored red satin ball gown and matching red velvet jacket I wore for a seemingly endless number of off-campus Christmas casuals and endless on-campus performances of “Christmas Is” at the Haugh. I learned how to play handbells… and LOVED IT! I went to my first Country Club, and I think we sang at almost every country club in Southern California. These ultra-formal affairs helped pay for the group’s trip to Europe. And I gave starting pitches for every a cappella song we sang, in every performance. Yes, I was the “pitch bitch”. All of this was grueling, but it made me a stronger person. Now that I think about it, the pace was very similar to that which I endured as a doctoral student at USC. Now, it’s fascinating to recall that Mr. B was a college football player and that he also studied choral music with the great Charles Hirt at USC.
Back then I didn’t know anything about USC football or choral music or anything! I didn’t really know what it meant to be part of a legacy. And I didn’t really know what hard work was until I became a Citrus Singer. I always thought it was weird how Mr. B would reference Joe Paterno and Penn State football when talking about choral music – he loved him some Joe Paterno! Maybe that’s why today I see so many parallels between football and choir – I love me some football! I think we were Mr. B’s football team, and he was an elite coach. But he was old school. Honestly, he wasn’t nice with us. He was aggressive, passionate, and an expert in his field. Practice was grueling but effective and even beautiful. Mr. B’s voice was incredible: a rich bass-baritone, if I remember correctly. He often used the word “facilitate” when explaining how to achieve a sound he needed from us, and to this day, I love that word. Making music with Mr. B was a humbling experience. He had such reverence for the composers whose music he tried to teach us. He absolutely loved this music, and he truly shared that love with all of his students.
I am thankful that he came into my life, pushing me to be more and do more than I thought I could be or do. And I am so grateful for the priceless experiences he gave me in my early years as a choral musician.
In honor of this occasion, I’m celebrating 10 people/organizations who, through public service and/or artistry have made a deeply positive impact on me since my last birthday.
10. Vincent Robles
<– Duh, he’s my husband. ❤❤❤
9. Morris Robinson
Former football player who is slayin’ the classical singing world with his incredible voice. Uses his FB page as a platform for having dynamic conversations about Black Lives.
8. Shawn Kirchner
Composer/Singer who collaborated with my students and me at Harvard Westlake this past April to present one of the most beautiful and artistically satisfying choral performances in my career as a conductor.
The more time I spend with my “aunties and uncles” in this organization, the more my life is blessed.
4. Craig Hella Johnson
Conductor of Conspirare. We met briefly when he headlined the regional CCDA conference at CSFU this past fall. His message and his music at the conference were sublime. But to speak to him face to face was a total experience. One could drown in the depth of love and passion he brings to his art form.
3. The Weekend
Hip Hop singer/songwriter. I didn’t even really like this artist when I first heard him on the radio a few years ago. But over the last year I’ve become intrigued by the sweet, vulnerable quality of his voice. His song “Pray for Me” which was featured in the movie Black Panther has become a part of my personal inner soundtrack.
2. Mornings with Keshawn, Jorge, and LZ
These dudes on this KSPN morning show crack me up on my way to work. Their banter is usually hilarious and often deeply stimulating with regard to social consciousness. Though it’s a sports radio show, they honor musical artists and talk about current events, thereby making me feel connected to the world beyond my little musical sphere.
1. J. Michael Walker
Visual artist. His paintings of women of color are simply extraordinary. Every single one of his works is bursting with love and radiance. I have been moved to tears on occasion just by the art he shares on Facebook.
On Saturday, April 28 at 7:30pm, I will direct a spring choral concert with the Harvard-Westlake Choirs entitled “I Will Arise.” Joined by composer, singer-songwriter, and folk music expert Shawn Kirchner, we explore the musical intersections between Scotch-Irish, Appalachian, and Black American cultures as we consider what it means to find home within ourselves when circumstances drive us far away from the physical homes we know and love. We learn what enables us to rise and redefine what the word “home” can mean and where home can exist. And we discover what binds us together in our search for that home, that longed-for place of simple beauty and peace and timelessness that frees us from despair, loss, and pain. We consider the colorful poetry of 19th century Irish poet William Butler Yeats as he describes his desire to go to such a place:
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
– “The Lake Isle of Innisfree” by William Butler Yeats
