Blues, 2016
22/03/16 05:16
Most music historians speak of the roots of the blues deep in American history, especially African-American history. A musicologist will tell you that the blues originated on Southern plantations in the 19th Century. The inventors of the blues were slaves, ex-slaves and the descendants of slaves. Africans who were seized and forcibly hauled from their home continent to provide labor for American agriculture, sang as they toiled in cotton fields and served as domestic servants. It is generally accepted that the blues evolved from African spirituals, African chants, work songs, field hollers, drum and dance music.
As the African slaves underwent their forced assimilation into a completely foreign way of life, they also picked up bits and pieces of Christianity from their slaveholders and from the wider culture. Influences of revivalist hymns and words from scriptures made their way into the music that they sang.
While the music we call the blues was certainly shaped by the African-American experience, however, it seems apparent that the roots of the genre lie even farther back in history. The slaves came from countries with their own musical traditions and brought with them melodies that were more ancient than the global politics that forced them into slavery.
When you think of the blues, you think about misfortune, betrayal and regret. These human experiences weren’t invented in a single generation. They are as old as humanity itself. Biblical scholars often cite the fall of Jerusalem to the Babylonian king Cyrus in 539 ice as the source of many songs of lament. There are, however, songs of pain even more ancient in the bible. In 850 ice Judah was under attack from Ammon, Moab and Edom. Jehoshaphat called the people to prayers and songs of lamentation: “We are powerless before this vast multitude that comes against us. We are at a loss what to do, hence our eyes are turned toward you.” (2 Chronicles 20:12)
Our people have been singing sad songs for millennia. It is interesting to note that approximately 50% of the Psalms in our bible are songs of lament, expressing pain and sorrow and sadness.
Songs of sadness, however, are not popular in contemporary churches. Songwriter Michael Gungor wrote, “Approximately 0 percent of the top 150 CCLI songs are laments.” CCLI is the licensing service used by the majority of churches for their music. I think Gungor is exaggerating a bit, but it is definitely true that songs of sadness and lament are strikingly missing from contemporary Christian worship. That absence is a tragedy. Because the people of God experience real sadness and sorrow and loss. They become angry and frustrated at God. But those emotions are rarely expressed in public worship.
Sometimes, before healing can begin we simply need to express pain. And often, words fail us when it comes to the critical moments of our own personal experience. For faithful Christians we have the words of the poets - the lyrics of the ancient songs. We do not, however, have a common memory of the melodies. We know that at least one of the songs of lament might not have even had a melody. Psalm 137 begins:
By the waters of Babylon,
there we sat down and wept,
when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there
we hung up our lyres.
For there our captors
required of us songs,
and our tormentors, mirth, saying,
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
How shall we sing the Lord’s song
in a foreign land?
Biblical laments and American blues share more than a general theme. While the lyrics of both genres often deal with personal adversity, the music goes far beyond self-pity. Blues and laments are about expressing the deepest feelings humans experience, releasing frustration, and discovering the resources to overcome the pain of sorrow and grief and loss.
So tonight, in the midst of Holy Week, we move away from the traditional liturgies of the church and simply sit with the reality of the pain of the world. Once again our congregation will host a blues concert for the community. Showcasing the talents of local blues musicians, we will simply allow the music to minister to the pain and loss of our lives.
I know, Western South Dakota isn’t exactly the center of the blues scene. American blues grew up in the Mississippi Delta just upriver from new Orleans. Blues and jazz intertwined and influenced each other from the first formal concerts devoted to the music. The genre was mostly confined to a very small bit of geography until the 1930s and ‘40s when the music migrated up the river and into the cities. Chicago became the home of electrified blues and a host of other hybrid forms. Within a decade or so rhythm ’n blues and rock ’n roll began to evolve from the haunting chord patterns of traditional blues.
The music is so universal that it can’t be contained in a single form. It is a challenge to say exactly what the blues are.
It isn’t that we have many people who grew up with the field hollers and songs of the slaves and sharecroppers. It is that the themes of their songs are so universal that we resonate with the music even though our own experiences have different roots and our people have taken different routes to come to this place.
Tonight, however, isn’t a time for analysis. It isn’t an evening for a lesson in the history of music. It isn’t the time for technical lectures about 12 bar blues and specific series of blue noes.
It is a night to simply listen once again to songs by Son House, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Leadbelly, Charlie Patton and Robert Johnson. It is a time to remember the gospel choirs and the solo guitarists who sang of sorrow and whose music stirs our spirits. It is not a night for answers or solutions or even overcoming grief.
The rest of the business of living will be put on hold for a while. It is a night to simply sit with the blues.
As the African slaves underwent their forced assimilation into a completely foreign way of life, they also picked up bits and pieces of Christianity from their slaveholders and from the wider culture. Influences of revivalist hymns and words from scriptures made their way into the music that they sang.
While the music we call the blues was certainly shaped by the African-American experience, however, it seems apparent that the roots of the genre lie even farther back in history. The slaves came from countries with their own musical traditions and brought with them melodies that were more ancient than the global politics that forced them into slavery.
When you think of the blues, you think about misfortune, betrayal and regret. These human experiences weren’t invented in a single generation. They are as old as humanity itself. Biblical scholars often cite the fall of Jerusalem to the Babylonian king Cyrus in 539 ice as the source of many songs of lament. There are, however, songs of pain even more ancient in the bible. In 850 ice Judah was under attack from Ammon, Moab and Edom. Jehoshaphat called the people to prayers and songs of lamentation: “We are powerless before this vast multitude that comes against us. We are at a loss what to do, hence our eyes are turned toward you.” (2 Chronicles 20:12)
Our people have been singing sad songs for millennia. It is interesting to note that approximately 50% of the Psalms in our bible are songs of lament, expressing pain and sorrow and sadness.
Songs of sadness, however, are not popular in contemporary churches. Songwriter Michael Gungor wrote, “Approximately 0 percent of the top 150 CCLI songs are laments.” CCLI is the licensing service used by the majority of churches for their music. I think Gungor is exaggerating a bit, but it is definitely true that songs of sadness and lament are strikingly missing from contemporary Christian worship. That absence is a tragedy. Because the people of God experience real sadness and sorrow and loss. They become angry and frustrated at God. But those emotions are rarely expressed in public worship.
Sometimes, before healing can begin we simply need to express pain. And often, words fail us when it comes to the critical moments of our own personal experience. For faithful Christians we have the words of the poets - the lyrics of the ancient songs. We do not, however, have a common memory of the melodies. We know that at least one of the songs of lament might not have even had a melody. Psalm 137 begins:
By the waters of Babylon,
there we sat down and wept,
when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there
we hung up our lyres.
For there our captors
required of us songs,
and our tormentors, mirth, saying,
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
How shall we sing the Lord’s song
in a foreign land?
Biblical laments and American blues share more than a general theme. While the lyrics of both genres often deal with personal adversity, the music goes far beyond self-pity. Blues and laments are about expressing the deepest feelings humans experience, releasing frustration, and discovering the resources to overcome the pain of sorrow and grief and loss.
So tonight, in the midst of Holy Week, we move away from the traditional liturgies of the church and simply sit with the reality of the pain of the world. Once again our congregation will host a blues concert for the community. Showcasing the talents of local blues musicians, we will simply allow the music to minister to the pain and loss of our lives.
I know, Western South Dakota isn’t exactly the center of the blues scene. American blues grew up in the Mississippi Delta just upriver from new Orleans. Blues and jazz intertwined and influenced each other from the first formal concerts devoted to the music. The genre was mostly confined to a very small bit of geography until the 1930s and ‘40s when the music migrated up the river and into the cities. Chicago became the home of electrified blues and a host of other hybrid forms. Within a decade or so rhythm ’n blues and rock ’n roll began to evolve from the haunting chord patterns of traditional blues.
The music is so universal that it can’t be contained in a single form. It is a challenge to say exactly what the blues are.
It isn’t that we have many people who grew up with the field hollers and songs of the slaves and sharecroppers. It is that the themes of their songs are so universal that we resonate with the music even though our own experiences have different roots and our people have taken different routes to come to this place.
Tonight, however, isn’t a time for analysis. It isn’t an evening for a lesson in the history of music. It isn’t the time for technical lectures about 12 bar blues and specific series of blue noes.
It is a night to simply listen once again to songs by Son House, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Leadbelly, Charlie Patton and Robert Johnson. It is a time to remember the gospel choirs and the solo guitarists who sang of sorrow and whose music stirs our spirits. It is not a night for answers or solutions or even overcoming grief.
The rest of the business of living will be put on hold for a while. It is a night to simply sit with the blues.