Across the Universe is a 2007 American musical romantic drama film
directed by Julie Taymor, produced by Revolution Studios, and
distributed by Columbia Pictures. The film's plot is centered on songs
by The Beatles. The script is based on an original story credited to
Taymor, Dick Clement, and Ian La Frenais. It incorporates 34
compositions originally written by members of The Beatles.
The film stars Jim Sturgess, Evan Rachel Wood, Joe Anderson and T.V.
Carpio, and introduces Dana Fuchs and Martin Luther McCoy as actors.
Cameo appearances are made by Bono, Eddie Izzard, Joe Cocker, and Salma
Hayek, among others.
Opening to mixed reviews, Across the Universe was nominated for both a Golden Globe and an Academy Award.
The film's release date and release pattern became the subject of some
media and public discussion. The film had been originally scheduled for
release in 2006. The release was postponed as the editing process became
extended and internal disputes arose. The film was subsequently
scheduled for a wide release on approximately 1,000 U.S. screens on
September 28, 2007. In early September 2007, Sony announced that the
release would be brought forward to September 14, 2007, with a "platform
release" pattern starting on a small number of screens—with additional
screens to be added in subsequent weeks.
The film received its world premiere on Monday, September 10, 2007, at
the Toronto International Film Festival. The film was then given a very
limited "platform release" on 27 screens in the U.S. on Friday,
September 14. The film had the second-highest "per-screen" average on
its opening weekend. In the following three weeks, the release was
gradually expanded to select regions. After four weeks in limited
release, on October 12, the film was elevated to a comparatively broader
release on 954 U.S. screens, breaking into the U.S. box office top ten
at #8.
The DVD, UMD, and Blu-ray formats were released on February 5, 2008.
The film received mixed to positive reviews from critics. Rotten
Tomatoes gives the film a score of 53% based on 154 reviews. Metacritic
gives the film a weighted average score of 56%, based on 29 reviews.
oger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times was extremely positive towards the
film, giving it four stars, calling it "an audacious marriage of
cutting-edge visual techniques, heart-warming performances, 1960s
history and the Beatles songbook" and calling Julie Taymor an "inventive
choreographer".
The film appeared on a few notable critics' top ten lists of the best films of 2007
Tuesday
Daddy Dearest and his all-American musical kids--FAMILY BAND: THE COWSILLS STORY
You never really know, do you? The family of musical wonders from the 1960s known as The Cowsills -- upon whom the hit TV show The Partridge Family
was more-or-less based and who many members of my gener-ation imagined
to be a goody-two-shoes band that would maybe take up the mantle of Lawrence Welk
-- were actually leading, except for the music that probably saved
them, a life of hell-on-earth. This was due, as we quickly discover from
the new documentary FAMILY BAND: THE COWSILLS STORY,
to their wretched father, Bud Cowsill, a man who should never have had
children or, in fact, have married, or, let's just say it, have been
born.
If it sounds like I may be exaggerating a bit, wait. As this sad and
surprising docu-mentary unfolds, you, too, will come to loathe the
actions and behavior of this "Daddy Dearest." While the film seems to
have been mostly made at the behest of one of Bud's sons, Bob Cowsill,
who, like many of the family members, is still singing and playing his
heart out, it appears, according to the press kit on the film, that it
was instead the director, Louise Palanker (above),
who was a childhood fan of the group, who sought out Bob and then the
rest of the family with the request to make a documentary about them.
We're glad she did.
TrustMovies doesn't think that the much-used term schadenfreude
(pleasure derived from the misfortune of others), though it often does
apply to how we look at and feel about celebrities, works very well with
this particular family. After watching Family Band, you can only
want the best for this crew. Listening to their music now, in their
adulthood, may make you, as it did me, feel that we misjudged the group,
and that they were a hell of a lot better at what they did than many of
us were willing to admit at the time. That's they, above (in the early
days, with mother Barbara just right of center) and below, more
currently.
The Cowsills' mom and dad, one of their progeny explains early on, "were
kids having kids." They married young, and whenever Bud, who was in the
military and away much of the year, would return, mom would get
pregnant and drop another baby until there were seven children in all.
They evidently got their musical talent from mom's side; dad was the
driving force behind their success -- and unfortunately also behind
their too-early destruction as a group.
The story of how a quartet of the kids hoped to maybe become the new
Beatles -- and then were joined by another brother and (much to their
horror) by their mom, then finally by their little sister -- is quite a
tale. How and why one brother was kept from joining the band and forced
into the military is another such -- one that haunts the movie and the
family members throughout.
There is plenty of wonderful footage of the early days (appearances on
Ed Sullivan, Johnny Carson and the like), a few talking heads (such as
mom Partridge -- Shirley Jones,
above -- and music folk who helped the kids along, until Dad always got
in the way), and reminiscences by the band members (and other family
members, some of them quite funny). There are also a number of surprises
(you might even call them shocks) along the way; the less said about
them, the better, so as not to ruin your movie experience.
Finally -- and despite the experience of growing up with a dreadful dad
(at far right, below) and a mom who constantly looked the other way, and
even though, as they tell us now, after all that early success, these
kids nonetheless began their adult life in debt -- the movie is a
hopeful one. This group did love music. And, damn, but they were (and
still are) good at it!
Family Band: The Cowsills Story, running just under 90 minutes, has been picked up by Showtime and will make its premiere on the cable network this Wednesday, March 6.
Why “Spirituals” Give American Music Its Unrestrained Emotional Power!
Christian hymns
and songs informed African American spirituals of the 1600 – 1800s, however
slave composers created new melodies ushering in a new musical style with
modified biblical text creating an original American musical art form. The
uniting of religious, emotional and physical experience through song as a
result of being an African American slave in bondage and the descendants of
slaves, is a potent combination of characteristics for a musical form. Writing
about personal hardships as slave composers, overcoming struggles as both an
individual and as a part of a group of people have become universal messages
known the world over. While Spirituals are an expression of faith, many of the
songs have served as socio-political protests to the status quo. The musical
contributions of these early Americans and the circumstances they experienced,
provide the framework for the modern day American songwriter and
instrumentalist, singing and playing music that pronounces their own personal hardships
and in turn, creating more universal messages and an opportunity for new roads
of communication.
During “camp
meetings” slaves created new music culture during their religious worshipping
with communal shouts and chants. Impromptu musical expression went into
creating field songs, line singing and present day African American spiritual
practices including “call and response” style of preaching and song. The raising
of hands and arms in the air, shouting traditional praise phrases and
emphasizing the combinations of sound, movement, emotion and shared interaction
provided for their own motivation in overcoming struggles and faith that they
will be free from their oppressors.
In an amazing
story that unites the three principle populations of early American life
in the
South, Uncle Wallace Willis an African American slave who was given his
name by
his owner Britt Willis likely in Mississippi, was hired to Scottish
American,
Reverend Alexander Reid in the 1850s. The Reverend was the
superintendent of the Spencer Academy in
the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, created by President Andrew Jackson
after driving them out of their native land in the "Trail of Tears." The
Reverend heard Wills and “Aunt
Minerva” Willis sing religious songs they evidently had written as they
worked.
Among the songs was “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” Years later, after
hearing a
concert by the African American Fisk Jubilee Singers in 1871, the
Reverend
thought they would do well by singing the “negro spirituals” and “field
songs”
that his former slave workers used to sing with the children at the
Choctaw
Boys School during the days of slavery. Over 5,000 spirituals eventually
were
collected and documented from all over the South by the Reverend and
many
others including African American composer Henry Burleigh. At a
religious
conference in 1871, the all-African American Jubilee Singers put on
their first
performance singing the old captives' songs. This new music style would
soon
reach audiences all over the world and impact every style of American
music to
come. –Mark O’Connor
DEEP
RIVER
“Deep
River” is a classic example of an African American “spiritual” – an immensely
important genre of music born from the “plantation” and “sorrow” songs of the
African American slaves in the Deep South in the 1600s, 1700s and 1800s. Like
all spirituals, “Deep River” is a song of hope and longing, expressing a desire
for peace and freedom both in the present and in the afterlife. Through these
melodies, slaves held on to the hope of survival. The songs were created
vocally by groups of slaves working in the fields and gathering at camp
meetings, the more popular melodies then being passed from one plantation to
the next. Over time, slaves also developed songs that carried coded messages
containing plans for escape - especially during the time when the Underground
Railroad seemed like the only hope for freedom.
Henry
Thacker Burleigh
There are three general categories of spirituals, two of them being up-tempo. Today, “Deep River” belongs to the third group: slow, haunting melodies filled with emotion and faith and embodying the soul crying out in the universal longing for freedom. Through the melodies and lyrics of their spirituals the slaves expressed not only their own personal weariness and sorrow but also their hope and determination to overcome and live on. These songs of hope were partially engendered by the slaves’ newfound belief in the teachings of the Christian Bible. Differing from African cultures they knew, the Christian doctrine of a Heaven promising a glorious afterlife for suffering people was new to them and provided much-needed hope. It was not unusual for slaves and their masters or owners to attend daily or weekly church services together. In time, the slave populations embraced Christianity and believed that the religion of their European American captors would provide “deliverance” for them as well.
Most of the lyrics contained in the now-documented over 6,000 traditional spirituals echo the language of the Old Testament. The creators of spirituals quoted the Bible often in the lyrics, perhaps identifying with the Israelites in Africa whose enslavement and persecution was vividly portrayed in the Old Testament. The lyrics of this song - “deep river….my home is over Jordan….deep river, Lord, I want to cross over into campground” - imply that the Jordan River in the Bible symbolizes the Ohio River, a dividing line between the slave states and the free states. “Campground” implies a place for camp meetings, a type of gathering that, even though illegal in some areas, served as a vehicle for slaves to commune and share their sorrows and hopes. These camp meetings were among the rare occasions during which slaves could actually experience feeling free for at least a little while through singing, playing instruments and sharing stories. Some of the lyrics most likely have a double meaning as well suggesting that the camp meeting they looked for was in Heaven, the place where they would truly be set free.
With the end of the American Civil War in 1865 and the official emancipation of slaves in the South, the singing of spirituals died out for a short period. Soon, though, Fisk University in Nashville sent its all-African American choir on a world tour raising funds for educating newly freed slaves in Tennessee and surrounding States. The Fisk Jubilee Singers carried spirituals including “Deep River” to parts of the U.S. that had never before heard this type of music. They also performed for various European royalty – quite a novelty in the 1870s – and their success encouraged other African American colleges and professional singers to form touring groups. Published collections of “plantation songs” began to appear to meet a growing public demand for this music.
The person most responsible for bringing this deeply felt music to the attention of the country as a whole was Henry Thacker Burleigh. “Harry” Burleigh (b. 1866) was a classically trained singer and composer and became the trusted assistant of the great European composer Antonín Dvorak when Dvorak lived in America in the 1890s. Burleigh helped Dvorˇ ák with the copy work on his newly written masterpiece, “The New World Symphony.” At Dvorak’s request, Burleigh also sang spirituals for him – songs he had learned from his father, a blind man who had been a slave. Dvorak singled out “Deep River” as an important piece of music that he felt should be used in the creation of a new American Classical music.
It was Burleigh who altered the course of “Deep River” by arranging it for classical recitals. He also slowed the tempo from the Fisk Jubilee Singers’ version that was probably closer to how it was sung by field hands at work. Arrangements first in 1913 for a cappella mixed chorus with influences from Dvorak’s composing, and then in 1916 for solo singer and piano, had a monumental effect. “Deep River” was included in the collection of “Twenty-Four Negro Melodies” transcribed for piano by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor and published by Oliver Ditson in 1905. The astounding popularity of “Deep River” that followed could not have been predicted. In 1910, a popular violinist of that time, Maud Powell, was inspired to transcribe “Deep River” based on Coleridge-Taylor’s work. When she performed “Deep River” during her New York recital in October 1911, it was the first time a white solo concert artist trained in the European classical music tradition had performed an African American spiritual in concert. Powell recorded “Deep River” for the Victor Company on June 15, 1911 - the first version ever recorded.
After “Deep River” was sung in several films in the 1920s, and the melody adapted into another popular song “Dear Old Southland” in 1921, its popularity continued into the next generation. World-renowned virtuoso violinist Jascha Heifetz recorded his arrangement of the melody for violin solo in the 1940s. Johnny Mathis and many other singers recorded the song from the '50s on. Gospel groups today often include “Deep River” in their programming.
There are three general categories of spirituals, two of them being up-tempo. Today, “Deep River” belongs to the third group: slow, haunting melodies filled with emotion and faith and embodying the soul crying out in the universal longing for freedom. Through the melodies and lyrics of their spirituals the slaves expressed not only their own personal weariness and sorrow but also their hope and determination to overcome and live on. These songs of hope were partially engendered by the slaves’ newfound belief in the teachings of the Christian Bible. Differing from African cultures they knew, the Christian doctrine of a Heaven promising a glorious afterlife for suffering people was new to them and provided much-needed hope. It was not unusual for slaves and their masters or owners to attend daily or weekly church services together. In time, the slave populations embraced Christianity and believed that the religion of their European American captors would provide “deliverance” for them as well.
Most of the lyrics contained in the now-documented over 6,000 traditional spirituals echo the language of the Old Testament. The creators of spirituals quoted the Bible often in the lyrics, perhaps identifying with the Israelites in Africa whose enslavement and persecution was vividly portrayed in the Old Testament. The lyrics of this song - “deep river….my home is over Jordan….deep river, Lord, I want to cross over into campground” - imply that the Jordan River in the Bible symbolizes the Ohio River, a dividing line between the slave states and the free states. “Campground” implies a place for camp meetings, a type of gathering that, even though illegal in some areas, served as a vehicle for slaves to commune and share their sorrows and hopes. These camp meetings were among the rare occasions during which slaves could actually experience feeling free for at least a little while through singing, playing instruments and sharing stories. Some of the lyrics most likely have a double meaning as well suggesting that the camp meeting they looked for was in Heaven, the place where they would truly be set free.
With the end of the American Civil War in 1865 and the official emancipation of slaves in the South, the singing of spirituals died out for a short period. Soon, though, Fisk University in Nashville sent its all-African American choir on a world tour raising funds for educating newly freed slaves in Tennessee and surrounding States. The Fisk Jubilee Singers carried spirituals including “Deep River” to parts of the U.S. that had never before heard this type of music. They also performed for various European royalty – quite a novelty in the 1870s – and their success encouraged other African American colleges and professional singers to form touring groups. Published collections of “plantation songs” began to appear to meet a growing public demand for this music.
The person most responsible for bringing this deeply felt music to the attention of the country as a whole was Henry Thacker Burleigh. “Harry” Burleigh (b. 1866) was a classically trained singer and composer and became the trusted assistant of the great European composer Antonín Dvorak when Dvorak lived in America in the 1890s. Burleigh helped Dvorˇ ák with the copy work on his newly written masterpiece, “The New World Symphony.” At Dvorak’s request, Burleigh also sang spirituals for him – songs he had learned from his father, a blind man who had been a slave. Dvorak singled out “Deep River” as an important piece of music that he felt should be used in the creation of a new American Classical music.
It was Burleigh who altered the course of “Deep River” by arranging it for classical recitals. He also slowed the tempo from the Fisk Jubilee Singers’ version that was probably closer to how it was sung by field hands at work. Arrangements first in 1913 for a cappella mixed chorus with influences from Dvorak’s composing, and then in 1916 for solo singer and piano, had a monumental effect. “Deep River” was included in the collection of “Twenty-Four Negro Melodies” transcribed for piano by Samuel Coleridge-Taylor and published by Oliver Ditson in 1905. The astounding popularity of “Deep River” that followed could not have been predicted. In 1910, a popular violinist of that time, Maud Powell, was inspired to transcribe “Deep River” based on Coleridge-Taylor’s work. When she performed “Deep River” during her New York recital in October 1911, it was the first time a white solo concert artist trained in the European classical music tradition had performed an African American spiritual in concert. Powell recorded “Deep River” for the Victor Company on June 15, 1911 - the first version ever recorded.
After “Deep River” was sung in several films in the 1920s, and the melody adapted into another popular song “Dear Old Southland” in 1921, its popularity continued into the next generation. World-renowned virtuoso violinist Jascha Heifetz recorded his arrangement of the melody for violin solo in the 1940s. Johnny Mathis and many other singers recorded the song from the '50s on. Gospel groups today often include “Deep River” in their programming.
Marian
Anderson at the Lincoln Memorial
Of the many performances of this spiritual, it is the one by African American soprano Marian Anderson that perhaps created the most memorable rendition of “Deep River.” In the early 1900s, this talented young student applied to the all-white Philadelphia Music Academy (now the University of the Arts) but was turned away because of her ethnicity. Her high school then stepped in and arranged an audition for private study with Giuseppe Boghetti and Agnes Reifsnyder, two very highly respected voice coaches of the time. At the audition, Anderson’s singing of “Deep River” brought Boghetti to tears. Years later, in 1939, the Daughters of the American Revolution refused to grant permission for Anderson to sing in an all-white public high school auditorium and also refused permission for her to sing to an integrated audience in Washington D.C.’s Constitution Hall. The DAR membership numbered in the thousands and it included First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt. There was outrage by many, but most notably by Mrs. Roosevelt herself who resigned from the organization over the issue. Later that year, and with President Roosevelt’s help, the First Lady created a recital performance for Ms. Anderson at the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. 75,000 people attended the recital and millions listened on radio throughout the country as Marian Anderson sang “Deep River.”
Marian Anderson’s soulful rendition of this old slave song touched the hearts of millions of Americans and demonstrated the tremendous power of music to convey suffering, hope and history. Fifteen years later, in 1955, Marian Anderson became the first African American to be invited to sing at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City. –Mark O’Connor
From Book III of the O'Connor Method for Violin
Of the many performances of this spiritual, it is the one by African American soprano Marian Anderson that perhaps created the most memorable rendition of “Deep River.” In the early 1900s, this talented young student applied to the all-white Philadelphia Music Academy (now the University of the Arts) but was turned away because of her ethnicity. Her high school then stepped in and arranged an audition for private study with Giuseppe Boghetti and Agnes Reifsnyder, two very highly respected voice coaches of the time. At the audition, Anderson’s singing of “Deep River” brought Boghetti to tears. Years later, in 1939, the Daughters of the American Revolution refused to grant permission for Anderson to sing in an all-white public high school auditorium and also refused permission for her to sing to an integrated audience in Washington D.C.’s Constitution Hall. The DAR membership numbered in the thousands and it included First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt. There was outrage by many, but most notably by Mrs. Roosevelt herself who resigned from the organization over the issue. Later that year, and with President Roosevelt’s help, the First Lady created a recital performance for Ms. Anderson at the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. 75,000 people attended the recital and millions listened on radio throughout the country as Marian Anderson sang “Deep River.”
Marian Anderson’s soulful rendition of this old slave song touched the hearts of millions of Americans and demonstrated the tremendous power of music to convey suffering, hope and history. Fifteen years later, in 1955, Marian Anderson became the first African American to be invited to sing at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City. –Mark O’Connor
From Book III of the O'Connor Method for Violin
WE
SHALL OVERCOME
“We Shall Overcome” is a gospel hymn based on lyrics from African Methodist Episcopal Church minister Charles Albert Tindley, a composer of numerous gospel hymns in the early 1900s. In 1901, “I’ll Overcome Someday” appeared in print and was published in Philadelphia by Tindley. This hymn could have been influenced by “I’ll be All Right,” a southern spiritual pre-dating emancipation. The lyrics to Tindley’s hymn were subsequently embellished and the hymn as a whole grew to include more verses with additions by gospel arrangers Atron Twigg and Kenneth Morris (c. 1945). Twigg and Morris most likely used the melody of “I’ll Be All Right” as well.
The melody known today as “We Shall Overcome” could also have been arranged by Twigg and Morris. The first two melodic phrases of the song borrow from the older African American spiritual, “No More Auction Block for Me,” published in 1867 in a collection of “negro” spirituals. However, those same phrases are similar to the opening of the Latin hymn “O Sanctissima,” a traditional Sicilian Mariner’s Hymn that became popular in Baptist and Methodist churches in the South. Interestingly, the entire first half and final phrase of the melody now known as “We Shall Overcome” are nearly identical to parts of the German Christmas carol “O du Frohliche, O du Selige.” The German carol was first recorded on a cylinder recording in the Berlin Edison Studios in 1906 as performed by the Nebe-Quartett. The origin of the second half of the “We Shall Overcome” melody can only be speculated upon. It could very well be original to the gospel arrangers Atron Twigg and Kenneth Morris or, equally likely, traced to a group of white folk singers in Tennessee.
“We Shall Overcome” is a gospel hymn based on lyrics from African Methodist Episcopal Church minister Charles Albert Tindley, a composer of numerous gospel hymns in the early 1900s. In 1901, “I’ll Overcome Someday” appeared in print and was published in Philadelphia by Tindley. This hymn could have been influenced by “I’ll be All Right,” a southern spiritual pre-dating emancipation. The lyrics to Tindley’s hymn were subsequently embellished and the hymn as a whole grew to include more verses with additions by gospel arrangers Atron Twigg and Kenneth Morris (c. 1945). Twigg and Morris most likely used the melody of “I’ll Be All Right” as well.
The melody known today as “We Shall Overcome” could also have been arranged by Twigg and Morris. The first two melodic phrases of the song borrow from the older African American spiritual, “No More Auction Block for Me,” published in 1867 in a collection of “negro” spirituals. However, those same phrases are similar to the opening of the Latin hymn “O Sanctissima,” a traditional Sicilian Mariner’s Hymn that became popular in Baptist and Methodist churches in the South. Interestingly, the entire first half and final phrase of the melody now known as “We Shall Overcome” are nearly identical to parts of the German Christmas carol “O du Frohliche, O du Selige.” The German carol was first recorded on a cylinder recording in the Berlin Edison Studios in 1906 as performed by the Nebe-Quartett. The origin of the second half of the “We Shall Overcome” melody can only be speculated upon. It could very well be original to the gospel arrangers Atron Twigg and Kenneth Morris or, equally likely, traced to a group of white folk singers in Tennessee.
Martin
Luther King, Rosa Parks and Pete Seeger. Highlander Folk School
“We Shall Overcome” has become one of the most well known songs in America largely because of what happened at the Highlander Folk School in Monteagle, Tennessee, a school that trained union organizers. Zilphia Horton, the school’s music director from 1935 to 1956, published a book of songs entitled “People’s Songs.” This book included a hymn titled “We Will Overcome.” Horton had first heard the song in 1945 from Lucille Simmons who led a mostly African American female workforce on a strike against the American Tobacco Company in Charleston, South Carolina. Simmons ended each day of picketing during a 5-month strike with the song “We Will Overcome” changing Tindley’s “I” to “We.” Other lyrics were improvised over the melody during the strike producing phrases such as “We will organize,” “We will win our rights,” and “We will win this fight” and demonstrating the great versatility of the song.
Friend of the Highlander School, director of People’s Songs Publications and soon-to-be-famous folk musician Pete Seeger adapted and added words to this song – most notably changing “will” to “shall.” When Guy Carawan replaced Horton as song leader at Highlander, the school had become a national focus of student non-violent activism. The striking workers song that Horton had originally heard in Charleston in 1945 quickly became the Civil Rights Movement’s unofficial anthem with Carawan working to teach and promote the song wherever he could. Carawan’s friend Frank Hamilton of the folk group “The Weavers” learned the famous melody and lyrics from Seeger.
The Highlander School in Tennessee brought blacks and whites together as Civil Rights workers to share experiences and to learn from one another at a time when southern laws kept blacks and whites segregated. In July of 1955, Rosa Parks, secretary of the Montgomery NAACP, attended a workshop at the Highlander Folk School. On December 1st of that year, her arrest sparked the historic Montgomery Bus Boycott that was a cornerstone of the Civil Rights Movement. Bernice Johnson Reagon wrote: “Music supplied the cohesiveness to the masses of people of the Montgomery Bus Boycott.” Rosa Parks remarked in her 1973 honorary doctorate acceptance speech that Highlander was the first place where she had been in the company of whites who treated her as an equal human being.
“We Shall Overcome” has become one of the most well known songs in America largely because of what happened at the Highlander Folk School in Monteagle, Tennessee, a school that trained union organizers. Zilphia Horton, the school’s music director from 1935 to 1956, published a book of songs entitled “People’s Songs.” This book included a hymn titled “We Will Overcome.” Horton had first heard the song in 1945 from Lucille Simmons who led a mostly African American female workforce on a strike against the American Tobacco Company in Charleston, South Carolina. Simmons ended each day of picketing during a 5-month strike with the song “We Will Overcome” changing Tindley’s “I” to “We.” Other lyrics were improvised over the melody during the strike producing phrases such as “We will organize,” “We will win our rights,” and “We will win this fight” and demonstrating the great versatility of the song.
Friend of the Highlander School, director of People’s Songs Publications and soon-to-be-famous folk musician Pete Seeger adapted and added words to this song – most notably changing “will” to “shall.” When Guy Carawan replaced Horton as song leader at Highlander, the school had become a national focus of student non-violent activism. The striking workers song that Horton had originally heard in Charleston in 1945 quickly became the Civil Rights Movement’s unofficial anthem with Carawan working to teach and promote the song wherever he could. Carawan’s friend Frank Hamilton of the folk group “The Weavers” learned the famous melody and lyrics from Seeger.
The Highlander School in Tennessee brought blacks and whites together as Civil Rights workers to share experiences and to learn from one another at a time when southern laws kept blacks and whites segregated. In July of 1955, Rosa Parks, secretary of the Montgomery NAACP, attended a workshop at the Highlander Folk School. On December 1st of that year, her arrest sparked the historic Montgomery Bus Boycott that was a cornerstone of the Civil Rights Movement. Bernice Johnson Reagon wrote: “Music supplied the cohesiveness to the masses of people of the Montgomery Bus Boycott.” Rosa Parks remarked in her 1973 honorary doctorate acceptance speech that Highlander was the first place where she had been in the company of whites who treated her as an equal human being.
Pete
Seeger. The Power of a Song
On September 2, 1957, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered the featured speech at the Highlander Folk School’s 25th anniversary celebration. Pete Seeger performed at that same event as Dr. King listened and joined with the Highlander students and faculty in singing the now-famous “We Shall Overcome.”
Later that day, Dr. King found himself humming the tune while riding in a car and commented to one of his companions, “There’s something about that song that haunts you.” Obviously, thousands of others agreed. Seeger himself and other famous folksingers sang this song countless times at Civil Rights rallies and folk festivals helping to bring attention to the work of Dr. King. Joan Baez led a crowd of over 300,000 people singing “We Shall Overcome” at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D. C. in 1963.
Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his last Sunday sermon on March 31st, 1968, just a few days before he was slain. The text of this oration includes references to the “haunting” song he had first heard from Pete Seeger and the Highlanders a decade before and which had become such a hallmark of his work:
And so, however dark it is, however deep the angry feelings are, and however violent explosions are, I can still sing “We Shall Overcome.”
We shall overcome because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.
We shall overcome because Carlyle is right—“No lie can live forever.”
We shall overcome because William Cullen Bryant is right—“Truth, crushed to earth, will rise again.”
–Mark O’Connor
From Book III of the O'Connor Method for Violin.
On September 2, 1957, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered the featured speech at the Highlander Folk School’s 25th anniversary celebration. Pete Seeger performed at that same event as Dr. King listened and joined with the Highlander students and faculty in singing the now-famous “We Shall Overcome.”
Later that day, Dr. King found himself humming the tune while riding in a car and commented to one of his companions, “There’s something about that song that haunts you.” Obviously, thousands of others agreed. Seeger himself and other famous folksingers sang this song countless times at Civil Rights rallies and folk festivals helping to bring attention to the work of Dr. King. Joan Baez led a crowd of over 300,000 people singing “We Shall Overcome” at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D. C. in 1963.
Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his last Sunday sermon on March 31st, 1968, just a few days before he was slain. The text of this oration includes references to the “haunting” song he had first heard from Pete Seeger and the Highlanders a decade before and which had become such a hallmark of his work:
And so, however dark it is, however deep the angry feelings are, and however violent explosions are, I can still sing “We Shall Overcome.”
We shall overcome because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.
We shall overcome because Carlyle is right—“No lie can live forever.”
We shall overcome because William Cullen Bryant is right—“Truth, crushed to earth, will rise again.”
–Mark O’Connor
From Book III of the O'Connor Method for Violin.
Video
The Music Documentary on Martin Luther King Day
The Music Documentary on Martin Luther King Day
The influence of American
culture on silent film music was wide reaching; conversely, so was the
influence of silent film music on American culture. Audiences were exposed to
existing classical music, some for the first time, as well as popular and newly
composed works. New instruments were developed, an accepted musical practice
was conceived that is still evident in today’s film music, the US Copyright
laws were refined, and an entirely new genre of American music was born. These
innovations made the music documentary possible.
There are as many
different types of music documentaries as there are styles of music, but one of
the first instances of music actually being combined with “film” in the United
States took place in 1894. New York sheet music publishers Edward B. Marks and
Joe Stern hired electrician George H. Thomas and various performers to promote
sales of their song “The Little Lost Child.” Thomas photographed people acting
out the song; the photographic images were then printed on glass slides and
painted in color by hand. Musicians played and sang the song live in the
theater while the slides were projected on a screen by means of a magic
lantern. This would become a popular form of entertainment known as the “illustrated
song,” the first step toward music video. Thanks to illustrated song
performances, “The Little Lost Child” became a nationwide hit, spawning a huge
industry. At one time, as many as 10,000 small theaters across the United
States featured illustrated songs. For music publishers, it was a gold mine.
Marks, a former button salesman, and Stern, a one-time necktie hawker, became
Tin Pan Alley titans.
Some of the earliest
American music flicks, so-called “promotional shorts,” featured the jazz stars
of that time. Among the jazz world’s most flamboyant luminaries was Cab
Calloway. The Hi-De-Ho Man’s signature tune “Minnie the Moocher” served as the
soundtrack to Max Fleischer’s 1932 Betty Boop cartoon episode of the same name.
Calloway also recorded “St. James Infirmary Blues” and “The Old Man of the
Mountain,” which were likewise featured in Betty Boop animated shorts.
Through rotoscoping, an
animation technique in which animators trace over live-action film movement
frame-by-frame, Calloway not only lent his singing voice to these cartoons, but
his dance steps as well. He appeared in a series of Paramount “shorties” in the
1930s, where he can be seen performing a gliding backstep dance move – a
precursor to Michael Jackson’s “moonwalk.” The orchestras of Calloway and Duke
Ellington appeared on film more than any other group of the era.
According to Richard
Brody, Shirley Clarke’s 1985 documentary, Ornette:
Made in America reveals much about the seminal jazz innovator. In this
amazing music documentary Clarke joins an impressionistic portrait of the
musician with an informative overview of his life, work, and ideas. The
documentary also poses painful questions about a mid-career artist whose
restless curiosity is yoked to the glory and burden of a public persona—questions
that apply as well to Clarke and her methods.
Miles Kreuger & the Institute of the American Musical
Though I have yet to make a complete inspection, I have been assured that the collections of the Institute of the American Musical fill 17 rooms. Even a quick glance at Miles Kreuger’s headquarters suggests that another five rooms may be in order: the place is carpeted and furnished with memorabilia. Books are shelved in double decks, file cabinets creak under the weight of scripts, correspondence, and other archival documents, photographs practically paper the walls, and a massive cabinet contains nothing but original-cast albums — every original-cast album, ever. Many feature liner notes by Kreuger himself.
In conversation, Kreuger has but little need for his archives: he happily cites from memory names, dates, addresses, and every kind of statistic, even phone numbers long since disconnected. He remembers with extraordinarily vivid clarity the precise details of the first show he ever saw on Broadway — when he was four years old.
Kreuger, right, with the sublime Nanette FabrayAs young Miles prated on, asking his grandmother about the purpose of the stage curtain and why the musicians were punished by being thrown into the pit, a woman remarked, “Imagine! Bringing a child of that age to the theater! He’ll do nothing but talk and talk!”
“Look who’s talking,” replied little Miles.
The play in question, he informs me, was Knights of Song, about Gilbert & Sullivan, whose work Miles was already learning by heart. Nigel Bruce starred as W.S. Gilbert, and the play ran (very briefly) at the Fifty-first Street Theatre, one of the most ornate venues in New York.
Years later, on that same stage — by then renamed the Mark Hellinger Theatre — Miles missed out on what should have been his big break as a performer. While he was working as an assistant on a new musical adaptation of Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion, director Moss Hart and lyricist Alan Jay Lerner asked him to audition in the producer's office. They liked what they heard, and the part was his. But once arrived at the Hellinger, Miles was overwhelmed by the vastness of the auditorium, so much bigger than his college theater, and he chickened out.
That’s how he didn’t create the role of Freddy Eynsford-Hill in My Fair Lady. Julie Andrews still teases him about the incident, he says. (“If you hadn’t been so shy, we could have worked together for two years!”)
The HellingerSo much for the street where we lived. The Hellinger didn’t bring me much luck, either: that’s where Rags played its four performances, in 1986. Today, the theater is owned and occupied by the Times Square Church.
Many of the great theaters of Broadway are gone, and their only remnants are in Miles Kreuger’s home: just inside the front door are two seats from the old Empire Theatre. (Not the multiplex cinema on 42nd Street, but the legit theater on Broadway and 40th.) “These seats saw Maude Adams in Peter Pan,” Kreuger observes. He can recite whole catalogues of lost treasures, and the changing cityscape, he says, is why he moved away: “By 1978, there wasn’t a trace of New York City left,” he says. “Times Square was gone. Penn Station was gone.” He decided to move to Los Angeles.
Kreuger is such a New York type (who can drive, but doesn’t), and his subject so Broadway-centric, that Los Angeles seems an unlikely destination for him. However, he’s quick to remind a visitor that Hollywood made important contributions to the American musical, too. Lest we forget, Judy Garland never appeared in a Broadway play.
I first met Kreuger when I worked at the Kurt Weill Foundation — he remembers Railroads on Parade, Weill’s contribution to the 1939 World’s Fair — and he was a guiding force behind John McGlinn’s recording of Show Boat, on which Teresa Stratas sings “Bill” (to me, need I point out). We were long overdue to get reacquainted, and my research into the career of Madeline Kahn provided the perfect opportunity. (Indeed, Miles welcomes any qualified researcher to the Institute, and provides advice and other assistance in addition to access to the collections.)
When our conversation touched on Peter Bogdanovich’s At Long Last Love, an homage to Cole Porter in which Madeline co-starred, I learned that Kreuger knew Porter and had introduced Bogdanovich to some of his songs. Kreuger wrote the liner notes for the soundtrack album, too. But the movie was a failure, Madeline and Bogdanovich never worked together again, and the recording is a collector’s item of which she herself owned no copy, and on which I’ve never set eyes.
Maude Adams did it differently:Jerome Robbins and Mary Martin rehearse Peter Pan
Mostly, we talked about New York, and the remarkable personalities Kreuger knew there. To cite but one example: freshly graduated from Bard College at age 20, he worked with Helen Hayes, Lena Horne, Ezio Pinza, and Ruth Draper. (Not a bad start.) And one more example: Goddard Lieberson’s secretary sounded so much like an Elaine May character that at first Kreuger thought Mike Nichols (who’d told him to call the legendary record producer) was playing a trick on him.
Kreuger is nostalgic for New York, certainly, yet what strikes me is how much of it he brought West with him. Not only the artifacts that surround him but the spirit he exudes. He serves as a useful role model as I try to decide where I should live — as I mourn my own “lost New York” (which I never saw until after Kreuger had left) — and as I frolic in the eerily seductive California sunshine.
And he reminds me of a scene in Diva. Jules the mailman is talking about music, and Cynthia Hawkins interrupts him. “If you didn’t exist, you would have to be invented,” she says. So it is with Miles Kreuger. Such fans are the keepers of the flame that warms the rest of us.
Kreuger’s latest project is a collection of Johnny Mercer’s lyrics.The Institute of the American Musical has been described as “a national treasure” by Dr. James Billington, the Librarian of Congress, and its vast collections are open to researchers and students by appointment. As a 501 (c)(3) not-private, not-for-profit corporation, the Institute gladly accepts donations — which are tax-deductible. For more information or to make a contribution, please write to
The Institute of the American Musical
121 North Detroit Street
Los Angeles, CA 90036-2915
121 North Detroit Street
Los Angeles, CA 90036-2915
Wednesday
Sunday
Having some laughs with the doctors.
Here's and update on my mom's fix-up surgery.
Everything went extremely well.
She's doing great and having some laughs with the doctors.
They are unhooking her from things and she's going for three walks today ;-)
Might get discharged Monday or Tuesday.
Thanks for your thoughts.
Monday
YIDDISH CONVERSATION
Even though years go by there are some things that you never forget, they just stay with you. What I'm thinking about today is a Yiddish group that I conducted at a Jewish day care center about thirty-five years ago.
I've always enjoyed speaking Yiddish. My grandmother lived with my family when I was a little girl. Fortunately for me she preferred speaking her "mother tongue" so when I wanted to communicate with her I had to speak Yiddish.
Over the years I've always looked for a group or class where I could use my Yiddish. When I spent my winters in Florida I found a synagogue, a temple or a community center where I could spend an enjoyable few hours using "my mother tongue."
Well right now I don't remember what inspired me to start that Yiddish group so many years ago but I can tell you it was one of the most rewarding and enjoyable undertakings that I have ever experienced.
In those days there were still many Jewish people that could speak Yiddish and because their physical or mental needs necessitated they spend some of their time at the center, they came looking for companionship and activities.
From the first day that I conducted "my class" they were hooked and so was I! The group consisted of about twelve people, I got them speaking Yiddish, laughing and singing. The day that I was getting ready to go to the class I had a spring in my step and when I left the group I was flying high! I still remember walking out of the center feeling like a million bucks!
So many years have gone by and I still have that warm feeling when I speak Yiddish.
Here at Brooksby they have a Winter program called "Live and Learn" where residents are invited to participate in a program of residents teaching residents.
A bell went off in my head, "why don't I offer a class in "Yiddish Conversation." I did not have any idea of how many people would be interested in signing up but I really wanted to give it a try. I did emphasize that I would not be a teacher but we would help each other find the "right word."
We have met for two classes so far and what a group we have!!! There are four people in the group that speak a good Yiddish, one lady brought in some good old Yiddish songs that we have sung, one lady brought in a huge Jewish dictionary that helps us when we can't think how to say a word, and a couple of men have contributed some humor.
So far, so good. I signed up to conduct four sessions. Two more to go. We have had some laughs, sung some songs and reminisced.
HEALTH NEWS
A few weeks ago I had some health issues and many tests - "seek and they shall find" - well, they found something that needs to be taken care of so in a few weeks I'll be off to the hospital "to be taken care of."
My group wants more "Yiddish" so we are all looking forward to talking a blue streak when we get together again!
Watch more Millie's Yiddish Class videos here.
Tuesday
THE DOCTOR, THE DINNER AND THE BUTLER
Did you ever have the experience that while it was happening you thought, "this is just not working out right." Well that's what happened to me yesterday.
Monday night is movie night here at Brooksby. Usually it's a good old film. Last night was different! "The Butler," a 2013 film was to be shown at 7:15. The girls and I made plans to have an early dinner so we'd be sure to make the film at 7:15.
It so happens that I had a late afternoon appointment with a doctor - yes, I'm still seeing those guys. I showed up on time but the doctor was running a half hour late. (so what else is knew) eventually I got seen, had to meet the girls at 5:00 in the dining room. Somehow I made it!
We were a party of six, needed a large table so we had to be seated in the private dining room. We told the host that we had plans to attend the evening movie. We were seated and waited and waited - no one showed up! I went to the front desk and told the host our problem. He found out that someone had neglected to assign a server for our table!
We were seated at 5:25 and did not get our entree until 6:40 p.m!
When we arrived at the movie it was 7:10 p.m. Biggest crowd we've ever had!
Ok, it's 7:15 - nothing is happening! Finally the person in charge told us the PROBLEM she was experiencing. "The person who was supposed to bring and show the film was not responding to her telephone call. What to do!!!
Someone had to go to the man's apartment and find out WHY!
Come to find out, he forgot!!!
Meantime this large crowd was waiting patiently. (I wonder if young people would have been so patient)
There was a gentleman in the crowd that said he would be able to show the film once it got to the theater.
While we were waiting the lady in charge told a few jokes and some people in the audience put their two cents in too.
The jokes were corny but very well received by the audience!
The Butler took me through a vivid trip of three decades of history while he served eight presidents.
Considering all the things that were not going right, in the end we laughed about the whole experience!
Monday night is movie night here at Brooksby. Usually it's a good old film. Last night was different! "The Butler," a 2013 film was to be shown at 7:15. The girls and I made plans to have an early dinner so we'd be sure to make the film at 7:15.
It so happens that I had a late afternoon appointment with a doctor - yes, I'm still seeing those guys. I showed up on time but the doctor was running a half hour late. (so what else is knew) eventually I got seen, had to meet the girls at 5:00 in the dining room. Somehow I made it!
We were a party of six, needed a large table so we had to be seated in the private dining room. We told the host that we had plans to attend the evening movie. We were seated and waited and waited - no one showed up! I went to the front desk and told the host our problem. He found out that someone had neglected to assign a server for our table!
We were seated at 5:25 and did not get our entree until 6:40 p.m!
When we arrived at the movie it was 7:10 p.m. Biggest crowd we've ever had!
Ok, it's 7:15 - nothing is happening! Finally the person in charge told us the PROBLEM she was experiencing. "The person who was supposed to bring and show the film was not responding to her telephone call. What to do!!!
Someone had to go to the man's apartment and find out WHY!
Come to find out, he forgot!!!
Meantime this large crowd was waiting patiently. (I wonder if young people would have been so patient)
There was a gentleman in the crowd that said he would be able to show the film once it got to the theater.
While we were waiting the lady in charge told a few jokes and some people in the audience put their two cents in too.
The jokes were corny but very well received by the audience!
The Butler took me through a vivid trip of three decades of history while he served eight presidents.
Considering all the things that were not going right, in the end we laughed about the whole experience!
Saturday
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)