Songs for June: Olas Gigantes & I'm Gonna Walk It With You

Happy solstice, friends!

What a month it has been.  This June I have celebrated a first wedding anniversary, family anniversaries and birthdays, my own 31st birthday — and as I have watched the deep wound of systemic racism and police brutality rise to the surface of America’s conscience, I have also begun to grapple with the legacy of white supremacy, and my place in the systems of oppressions that our great country was built upon.  There is so much work to do, my friends, inner work and outer work.

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” — Rev. Martin Luther King Jr (1963)

Continuing my imperfect monthly musical offerings, I share with you a few pieces from my own voice, but I also share with you a few songs by Black artists that have been rolling around my mind as I listen in new ways.  The brilliant podcast “1619” describes how “American music is Black music,” and so while one of my musical heritages is European classical music, I’m learning to recognize and celebrate that my American music heritage was birthed and shaped by the souls and voices, the struggles and the joys, of our Black neighbors.  What a legacy, and what a gift.

I hope you’ll enjoy these offerings. Courage to each of you, friends.

Stephanie

“I’m gonna walk it with you,” an anthem introduced to me by a friend, which has lingered with me this last week. For my siblings of color. May we have the grace and courage to walk this long road with you.

In this series of imperfect monthly musical offerings, my dear friend Diane Braun and I offer you “Olas Gigantes” by Turina.

Nina Simone wanted to be a classical pianist, but was denied admission at the Curtis Institute of Music because she was Black. She went on to be a leading Black artist that bridged classical, jazz, blues, folks, R&B, gospel, and pop, and a voice of the Civil Rights Movement.

I’ve always loved this song, but just in the last few weeks have the words illuminated something to me about Black history and experience. “ I left my home in Georgia / And I headed for the Frisco Bay /'Cause I've got nothin' to live for / Looks like nothin's gonna come my way … Looks like nothin's gonna change / Everything seems to stay the same / I can't do what ten people tell me to do … “