Music for urbanists: Lift Every Voice and Sing

James Weldon Johnson (from www.jamesweldonjohnson.org)

Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us...

--JAMES WELDON JOHNSON

(1/20/2025) The African American Museum of Iowa stepped up in a big way this Martin Luther King Day. For the second year in a row, observance in Cedar Rapids was at risk of being overshadowed by events: last year by the Iowa precinct caucuses, and this year by the presidential inauguration. The A.A.M.I. provided reduced admission and child-friendly programming all day long, including displays and video documentaries.

For many years, most recently in 2023, Cedar Rapids commemorated Martin Luther King Day with an evening service at St. Paul's United Methodist Church. The highlight for me was always when everyone in attendance stood to sing "Lift Every Voice and Sing," one of my all-time favorite hymns that deserves wider usage. Like "Joy to the World," it's tied by tradition to a particular season, but its message is timeless.

Anne Harris Carter presents Mike and Toni Loyal with the 2025
Who is My Neighbor Award, as Pastor Jonathan Heifner looks on
(Sunday 1/19 at St. Paul's United Methodist Church)

"Lift Every Voice and Sing" began as a poem composed by James Weldon Johnson on the occasion of Lincoln's birthday in 1900 (PBS 2013). It was Johnson's brother, John Rosamond Johnson, who later set the poem to music with its distinctive dual melodies. 

James Weldon Johnson (1871-1938) was 29 when he wrote the poem that became such an enduring song. His was no "cockeyed optimist" (South Pacific reference) about racial conditions in America as he wrote his song, either; he spent much of the following two decades lobbying the federal government fort a national anti-lynching law, which was finally passed in 1919.

Johnson must have been a whirl of talent and energy, for at various times in his life he was an elementary school teacher, founder of a high school, a lawyer, a prolific composer (collaborating with his brother) for Broadway shows, author, college professor, diplomat to Venezuela and Nicaragua, and civil rights activist for the NAACP ("Civil Rights Leaders: James Weldon Johnson" n.d.).

Here is a 2009 choral version of "Lift Every Voice and Sing" by the Metropolitan Baptist Church choir (5:00):

And here is a hip-hop version from Austin, Texas, performed by Doughboy the Midwest Maestro and DJ Kool Rod. A casual Internet search reveals dozens of versions in a variety of genres. It is one versatile song.

Its repeated references to past tribulations seems particularly appropriate to oppressed groups i.e. not suburban white bloggers. But the lyrics, like King's often-articulated vision, are all-inclusive: "Lift every voice and sing, let earth and heaven ring" (italics mine). We all live in hope of seeing unity; we all stand in need of redemption. It is hope well-placed, too, because only unity produces the social peace and prosperity we need to live well.

We have come over a way that with tears has been watered,
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past, Till now we stand at last

Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

Martin Luther King Jr (1929-1968) at the A.A.M.I.

Martin Luther King Jr. understood the hope of unity, combined with critical thinking and endurance and empathy. So did Jimmy Carter, whose mourning period is being interrupted for Inauguration Day. Pope Francis, who's made hope the theme of the 2025 Year of Jubilee (Powell 2025), understands it as well. I'm less sure about those who have used their political office to take out after diversity efforts in schools and workplaces. Understanding the perspectives of those whose life experiences differ from the majority's seems essential to attaining unity. But they're doing their best to make "diversity, equity, and inclusion" dirty words. Is understanding all this just "woke bullshit," to quote our newly reinaugurated President?

Suburbia was/is white because of inequality and discrimination;
Who will tell this story if government threatens schools?
(Display photographed at A.A.M.I.)

Donald J. Trump, triumphantly returned to office on MLK Day itself, has thrived exclusively on disunity. Even now, he is a sore winner, utterly ungracious about the (rather favorable) conditions he inherits from his predecessor. During the awful wildfires that still rage in California, he has promoted disinformation, blasted anyone taking actual responsibility as "incompetent," and called the California governor Gavin "New-scum," which insult Newsom probably last heard in 1st grade. I was tempted to see what "weird shit" (George W. Bush's 2017 characterization) Trump would produce in the inaugural address, but decided my time would be better spent at the African American Museum.

Resist hate with love, said King
(My picture taken at A.A.M.I.)

Building the cities of the future won't be done with name-calling; it will be done with ongoing learning and persistent hard work.

Shadowed beneath Thy hand, May we forever stand.

True to our God, True to our native land.

SEE ALSO: 

"MLK and the Winter of Discontent," Holy Mountain, 16 January 2024 

James Weldon Johnson Foundation page

Kristin Du Mez, "From the Spiritual Underground: Love and Justice for Nov. 20 and Beyond," Du Mez Connections, 19 January 2025

Kathryn Mobley, "West Dayton Exhibit Inspired by Martin Luther King Jr's Dayton Speech," WYSO, 20 January 2025

Pete Saunders, "CSY Replay #16: More on Segregation," Corner Side Yard, 20 January 2025

Music for an urbanist Christmas: Dar Williams

The men's group I attend at St. Paul's United Methodist Church recently discussed a perhaps improbable article from The Christian Century on heavy metal music (Holloway 2024). Writer Jack Holloway discovered the music of Black Sabbath while studying apocalyptic literature at seminary. Black Sabbath, he wrote, "prophesied an end to war, an end to the reign of the politicians and generals who make war. Was it possible this evil band was reading the Bible more faithfully than the preachers I'd heard growing up?"

Geezer Butler, bass player and composer of "War Pigs"

That led us to a group project in which each of us would present a song we consider meaningful. There were various other instructions, too, which I ignored, and it would seem the others did, too. The eventual collection included songs by Carrie Newcomer, Susan Werner, the Beatles, the Eagles, and James Taylor (two), as well as Leonard Bernstein, John Williams, and Beethoven--understandable for a group of men born between 1945 and 1960 (except for one swing shift worker born in 1992, who brought us "Reach for the Sky" by Social Distortion). We played and discussed 11 songs in about an hour, which unfortunately didn't leave much time for discussion.

My contribution was "The Christians and the Pagans" by Dar Williams, from her 1996 sophomore album, Mortal City. (The title song from that album made this urbanist playlist I made in 2013.) In a light-hearted way, the song tells the story of two young women (in a romantic relationship, Williams added at a concert I attended a few years later) who celebrate the solstice in some natural locale, then pop over to one of their uncles' for Christmas. The resulting cultural clash is restrained due to politeness, but keeps popping out in amusing ways. Always, however, family and common humanity outweigh seemingly incomprehensible religious differences.

Jane and I were having solstice, now we need a place to stay...

Listening to the song yet again, but this time in the company of a dozen first-time hearers, I was struck by two things. First, there clearly is more to the story, which Williams leaves to the listeners' imaginations. Did the young women just happen to pick a spot near the uncle's house, or was it part of a plan? Why hadn't the uncle spoken to his brother in a year? How if at all was little Timmy changed by his encounter with his strange but cool cousin? Secondly, as I'm learning about phrasing from singing in the chancel choir, I was struck how Williams's breathing creates phrases of varied lengths (sometimes four measures, sometimes one or even part of one) to convey different emotional states.

Christmas is like solstice, and we miss you...

My other impressions of the song are 28 years old; thanks to local advocacy of Williams's early work by the Legion Arts organization as well as Iowa Public Radio, I was familiar with the songs on Mortal City almost as soon as it was released. 1996 was a good time for me to receive this message. For probably the first 25 years of my life, I had swum rather unreflectively in a mainline Protestant sea. It was just the world in which I lived. Only in my peripatetic 20s did I encounter devout members of other faiths, not to mention people who did Christianity very differently than I did. I occasionally found myself in faith communities whose Christianity tended to insist on itself (an allusion to I Corinthians 13:4).

Sending hope for peace on Earth to all their gods and goddesses...

By 1996, I had had enough conversations, read enough books, and found a church that helped to clarify my desire to worship and live inclusively rather than exclusively. I'm still a Christian, but I have come to see other religions as complementary rather than opposing ways of understanding God. I have come to understand a lot of non-theistic worlds as rooted in God, though not the too-narrow definition of God we are taught in the West. I think this is a good basis for community. Urbanism requires seeing commonality across differences, rather than rushing to draw lines of distinction.

Where does magic come from? I think magic's in the learning...

Dar Williams continues to record and perform around the country. In 2017 she published What I Found in a Thousand Towns (Basic Books, 2017), an urbanist's tour of places where she's performed that have succeeded in building community. It reads like one of her songs: not a word out of place, good stories about people trying their hardest, and inspiring without being saccharine. Her concept of "positive proximity" (introduced on p. xi!) derives from Jane Jacobs on the importance of causal encounters; she shows how places that enable those encounters allow for connections that lead to community building (or rebuilding). But then people in those places have to do the connecting.

Translation is the magic ingredient that makes successful towns and cities happen. Translation is how we spell ourselves out to each other and the world. A willingness to share our skills, our stories, and ourselves with each other marks the difference between towns that feel like actual places and those with people who jump in and out of cars all day... When people truly arrive at some sort of communication, putting themselves forward and welcoming others in, we have positive proximity circulating and growing. (2017: 177)

Building those places, taking advantage of the opportunities for community building they provide, begins with recognizing each other's common humanity, particularly as we look for the Divine at this darkest time of the year.

Another rainy day in New York City

 

6th Avenue outside West 4th Street station

"Are you local?" asked the man at the coffee shop. "No," I said. "Do you work locally?" he asked. "No," I said, "I'm from Iowa." "Where is that?" he asked. From an array of potential responses, I chose, "Central US."

When I left for New York City on this long weekend, I knew (1) my best opportunity to immerse myself in Greenwich Village would be Monday, and (2) the weather forecast for Monday called for rain all day, so (3) I would be able to test out the urbanist maxim that walkable areas work in all kinds of weather because if your destination's close enough the weather simply doesn't matter.

6th Avenue at 9th Street

Reader, the maxim is true. (It helped that Monday was somewhere between light rain and drizzle, not the bouncing-off-the-pavement precipitation we often get in the "Central US.") Everywhere I walked in the West Village I encountered other walkers, some with children, many with dogs, as well as cyclists (mostly e-bikes). Life goes on, even in the rain, and it can go on just fine without a car if the design is supportive.

Hudson St approaching Perry St

The West Village, besides being spectacularly walkable, is spectacularly historic. Inexcusably, neither of our guidebooks mentions Jane Jacobs, who lived at 555 Hudson Street while writing her ur-urbanist classic The Death and Life of Great American Cities. 

555 Hudson Street

Her home is now a realty office, possibly some revenge for Robert Moses, but at least it's not a Dunkin' Donuts. 

plaque by the big front window

If your children are too young to appreciate Death and Life, they could start on this...

...available along with much else for all ages at the Tenement Museum, not far away on the Lower East Side, and whose side hustle may be one of the greatest bookstores I've ever been in.

The West Village is also the spiritual birthplace of gay rights. 

Stonewall Inn, 53 Christopher Street

Across Christopher Street from the Stonewall is Christopher Park...

where the gay rights movement is commemorated. 

Scant blocks away is Julius'...

159 West 10th Street
(Note that other than the main drags, streets are about 16 feet wide)

...where a few years before Stonewall, patrons invited reporters and police to witness their illegal imbibing, which events became known as "sipins."

Now that gays can congregate freely in bars and even receive packages by FedEx, it can be easy to remember that freedom was neither automatic nor easy.

The West Village also has considerable artistic heritage. The realtors in Jane Jacobs's house work within a 5-minute walk to folk music history...

Woody Guthrie lived at 74 Charles Street

theater...

Lucille Lortel Theater, 121 Christopher Street

theater history...

Playwrights Sidewalk on Christopher Street

jazz...

Village Vanguard Jazz Club, 178 7th Avenue S
(2010 photo of younger humble blogger with humble son Robbie)

and film!

IFC Center, 323 6th Avenue

There is also 94 Charles Street, for hipster baseball card collectors:

And there's 25 Charles Street...

...where my friend Mark Dunn lived in the 90s while trying to make a go of playwrighting.

Farther east, Cafe Wha?...

115 MacDougal Street

...is featured on the cover of Rhino's Troubadours of the Folk Era collection.

Sitting in the coffeeshop on a "slow" Monday (free WiFi, restroom, steady entrance of customers, $4.75 for a 12 ounce drip coffee)...

787 Coffee, 208 West 10th St

...I feel comfortable and at home here. I don't even want to go back to my hotel in Midtown! 

Is it amazing that all this ferment is happening in a relatively tiny geographical space? Yes, it is, but then again, no, it isn't. It's really only when people live with each other, encountering each other on a daily basis while negotiating space and difference, that such sparks fly and magic happens. When people retreat to enclaves, we get commercialized values and the politics of fear.

While I've been in New York, presidential candidate Ron DeSantis has been in Iowa, and word just came that President Biden is opening more of the Arctic for oil extraction. The West Village shows us that we can live well without either one.

Jefferson Market Library and Garden, 10 Greenwich Avenue

I suppose if I did live here, and visited Iowa, I would be blown away by all the personal space available, the cheap real estate and acres of free parking--all that chafes at me now--and the free refills. The grass is always greener... Would I then be encouraged to vote for Ron DeSantis to make America Florida (or, more attainably, Iowa)? 

SEE ALSO: Mike Katz and Crispin Scott, The Rock and Roll Explorer Guide to New York City (Globe Pequot, 2018)

One urbanist's top 10 list

Sam Cooke (1931-1964) Image source

(10/4/2020) WXPN, the terrific Philadelphia public radio station that hosts "The World Cafe," is surveying listeners for an upcoming countdown of the 2020 best songs of all time. You can vote here.

For awhile I was paralyzed by limitless choice, but then I decided to make a list to celebrate urbanism. I limited myself to post-1964--sorry, Duke Ellington--and tried to spread the selections across time periods and styles. My votes:

Change is Gonna Come by Sam Cooke, w/m Sam Cooke (Ain't That Good News, 1965). This barely cracked the top 40 when it was released the year after Cooke's life was taken, but it has endured as an anthem of hope-in-tribulation. A perfect vehicle for Cooke's incredible voice. [NOTE: The song appeared on two WXPN staff lists, so I have high hopes for its appearance on the list.]

Crowded Table by The Highwomen, w/m Brandi Carlile, Natalie Hemby, and Lori McKenna (The Highwomen, 2019). Amanda Shires assembled the female vocal quarter for the album of which this anthem to inclusion is the highlight. Urbanism is nothing if not inclusive, with "a place by the fire for everyone."

Downtown by Petula Clark, w/m Tony Hatch (Downtown, 1964). Celebrates the joys and wonders of successful city centers, not to mention their therapeutic qualities, at a time when America at least was all in on suburbs. It was her first and biggest U.S. hit.

Freedom Highway by Mavis Staples, w/m Roebuck "Pops" Staples (Mavis Staples Live: Hope at the Hideout, 2008). Written early in the civil rights movement, and recorded with a note of longing by the Staple Singers in 1965 when Mavis was 26, the re-recording celebrates liberation with unabashed triumph. 

Mortal City by Dar Williams, w/m Dar Williams (Mortal City, 1996). Long, fraught tale from her second album about a young woman who's so overwhelmed by the big city (New York?) that she shuts down, only to come alive on a fixed-up date during an ice storm. More than 20 years later, Williams wrote an urbanist book, What I Found in a Thousand Towns [Basic, 2017].

No Woman No Cry by Bob Marley and the Wailers, w/m Vincent Ford (Live at the Lyceum, 1975). First recorded on the 1974 studio album Natty Dread, it reaches its apotheosis in the live version--long, majestic, and communal. Though recorded in a concert hall, it sounds like the crowd singing along could be sharing food around a bonfire.

Nothing But Flowers by Talking Heads, w/m David Byrne, Chris Frantz, Jerry Harrison, and Tina Weymouth (Naked, 1988). Snarkily humorous look at a post-apocalyptic world without the things urbanists decry: franchise chains, parking lots, and shopping malls. "I wish I had a lawnmower," but he doesn't.

Only a Song by Ben Sollee and Daniel Martin Moore, w/m Ben Sollee, (Dear Companion, 2010). Tender song, two voices accompanied by strummed cello, exploring our place in the universe and the role of artistic expression in the world.

Spanish Harlem by Aretha Franklin, w/m Jerry Leiber and Phil Spector (Aretha's Greatest Hits, 1971).  Come for Franklin's soaring gospel-influenced treatment of this song, first recorded by Ben E. King ten years earlier. Stay for the enchanting lyric of persistent hope lived by the rose growing "right up through the concrete." The singer promises nurture and a place to belong.

Sultans of Swing by Dire Straits, w/m Mark Knopfler (Dire Straits, 1979). Away from the crowds and the tourist traps, the real city reveals itself in a half-empty jazz club on a rainy night. Six strong verses enhance the mood almost as much as Knopfler's flashy guitar licks. I still remember where I was when I first heard this song, appropriately enough driving down an empty street on a cold rainy morning.

Honorable mention:

Bus Stop, Hollies

Saturday in the Park, Chicago

The Spot, Your Smith

Stay on the Ride, Patty Griffin

Waterloo Sunset, Kinks

What's Going On, Marvin Gaye

SEE ALSO:

"An Urbanity Playlist," 12 June 2013

"Urbanity Playlist II: More Urbanity," 23 July 2014

In search of old 45s

Boxes of 45 rpm records at Washington's Crooked Beat

Some free time and lovely weather inspired me to a walking tour of Washington, D.C. record stores last weekend. The stores were interesting, the exercise did me good, and it might have something to say about urbanism to boot.

We begin at Dupont Circle, a wheel of pavement the spokes of which are Connecticut Ave, New Hampshire Av, P St and 19th St. The interior is a nice park, and the exterior has sidewalks on both sides, but I found it confusing to walk, even in light Saturday afternoon traffic. There are lights at each intersection, but the walk times are so few and far between that one is tempted to walk any time there aren't vehicles approaching. This is perfectly rational at a conventional intersection, but probably not at a roundabout.

West of Dupont Circle is Second Story Books, 2000 P St. It mostly sells used books, so its name is somewhat appropriate, although it occupies the entire building, and sometimes even...

..the sidewalk!

They did have a few LPs, mainly jazz, albeit a wide selection of that genre. Note the late Miles Davis album at the front of the middle box.

The 45s were in an alcove, with this inspirational saying posted above them.

What Cicero would think of a music collection without 45s is unrecorded, but I bet if he were alive today he wouldn't think twice about it. The staples of my youth have been overtaken successively by CDs and mp3s, so only the rare collector still traffics in these guys.

Next on our tour: Red Onion, 1901 18th St (corner of T St).

Now we're north of Dupont Circle and into the Adams Morgan neighborhood. The Red Onion is located in the basement of a building, and features mostly funk and hard rock LPs.

Outside, banners along the street celebrate the Adams Morgan neighborhood, and invite people to "Shop," "Eat," "Play" and "Live." This is a good example of place branding. I stayed for two weeks in this area in the 1980s during a short stint at the Brookings Institution, and had no idea it had a name. Now I do!

Up 18th Street at 2116, is another basement shop, Crooked Beat Records.

They claim a variety of genres (see sign at left), and sell new and used LPs and 45s. Their top three sellers in August were Spoon, Ty Segall and Insurgence DC.

Used LPs to the left, new to the right, 45s at the front of the store.

The view across the street.

Our final stop is Smash!, at 2314 18th St. It has new and used CDs and LPs, primarily rock, but as you can tell from the window display is distinguished by its selection of "vintage" clothing.

It also has 45s, but seriously? You couldn't have found another selection for the front of the box?

Three used record shops in a space of five blocks says something about a neighborhood. While each store had a few customers during the time I was there, neither the format nor the music itself is mainstream enough to attract squads of them. Ergo, rents are low in Adams Morgan. 18th Street has quite a few odd shops and little restaurants, but also small grocery stores, drug stores, a locksmith and an animal hospital--in other words, establishments catering to people's everyday lives. In contrast to Dupont Circle, which featured franchises like Panera Bread, Starbucks' and Books-a-Million, Adams Morgan has locally-owned businesses like the coffeehouses called Jolt n Bolt, L'Enfant Café-Bar and Adams Morgan Coffee Shop. There are places for parking, but the area is not overwhelmed by parking lots.

So, hooray for a walkable, livable neighborhood with locally-owned small businesses. My hometown of Cedar Rapids lacks the population or the density to do this on such a large scale, and it remains to be seen whether it can expand on the few efforts that have begun or will continue to conceive of commercial life in terms of franchise outlets and Super Wal-Marts.

Adams Morgan is a neighborhood that, at first superficial glance based on one walk-around, seems to have found the right equilibrium between gentrification and affordability. Maintaining that is surely tricky. How do you keep from tipping either to excess gentrification or insufficient capital?

RELATED POST: "Local Businesses," June 6, 2013

ON HOUSING COSTS IN DC (not differentiated by area, at least not in ways I can interpret): David Alpert, "How Fast Housing in DC is Growing Unaffordable, in 3 Charts," Greater Greater Washington, 8 October 2014, http://greatergreaterwashington.org/post/24483/how-fast-housing-in-dc-is-growing-unaffordable-in-3-charts/

Jazz Under the Stars Goes Downtown

KCCK-FM and a variety of corporate sponsors have hosted Jazz Under the Stars at Noelridge Park every August for as long as I can remember. This week, for the last concert of the year, they moved downtown to the new McGrath Amphitheatere on the west side of the river. Will this be a, or the, future venue? They're soliciting feedback.

The crowd seemed down a bit, maybe because school has started, or because of the unsettled weather. But they were a festive bunch nonetheless.

 

Across the river, the Great America Building was all aglow.

 

Looking downtown... the Veterans Memorial Building is at left, the Linn County Courthouse at right.

 

The evening's entertainment was provided by Uniphonics from Iowa City. This is their instrumental section.

 

The full ensemble including vocalists.

 

I liked the new venue, but I like the park setting too. Maybe they could alternate weeks?









Urbanity Playlist II: More Urbanity

In the year since I posted my Urbanity playlist, I've thought of enough songs that should be on there that I'm ready for a Volume II. These are songs that celebrate urban living, not pinned to a specific place. Why not pinned to a specific place? Good question. That sounds like the goal for Volume III!

1. Bus Stop -- Hollies
2. Dancing in the Street -- Martha and the Vandellas
3. What Colour Are You? -- Danny Michel
4. Somewhere Down the Crazy River -- Robbie Robertson
5. The Old Part of Town -- James McMurtry
6. White City -- Erin McKeown
7. Let the River Run -- Carly Simon
8. The Boys are Back in Town -- Thin Lizzy
9. Late in the Evening -- Paul Simon
10. Steppin' Out -- Joe Jackson
11. Don't Ever Change -- Amy Rigby
12. Marrakesh Night Market -- Loreena McKennitt
13. Only a Song -- Ben Sollee and Daniel Martin Moore
14. Sunset Grill -- Don Henley
15. Joy to You Baby -- Josh Ritter
16. Saturday in the Park -- Chicago
17. Coles Corner -- Richard Hawley
18. Pearly Blues -- Roger Manning
19. I'm Staying Here and I'm Not Buying a Gun -- John Wesley Harding
20. The Bike Song -- Mark Ronson and the Business International

Suggestions welcomed for future lists!

EARLIER POST: "An Urbanity Playlist," 12 June 2013