Your Sound: A Form of Freedom and Expression
In his last post, Greg framed rooted cosmopolitanism as a response to the decadence pervading our society. As an example, he questioned whether Cardi B’s “WAP” song, featuring Megan Thee Stallion is representative of the rights women fought so hard to attain. Perhaps their unabashed sexuality is an assertion of the fullness of their womanhood. Although, Black womanhood, in all its beauty and magnificence, doesn’t require gigantic stilettos, an enormous, elevated bed, or sexual undulations on a stage floor to express its power. The manner and quality of expression are important elements for women to consider as they define and develop into mature individuals. We evolve in different ways and at different times.
What responsibility do we hold individually and collectively to raise societal consciousness?
One of our Jazz Leadership Project’s practices is Your Sound, the authentic expression of your voice, style, tone, and ultimate presentation. If you heard the first few bars of a Stevie Wonder, Aretha Franklin, or Bruce Springsteen tune, you would likely recognize it immediately. Their styling, timbre, tone, and inflections, are very familiar to our ears. Jazz musicians stay in the shed (deliberate practice) to develop their sound, spending countless hours to master their instruments. This pathway establishes and hones their signature sound. It’s also the road to gain respect from fellow musicians who can trust that they’ll come prepared and ready to contribute to the musical magic.
In writing, tone refers to the author’s attitude, choice of words, sentence structure, and other literary devices that express how the author feels about the subject matter. When an author’s work has a decisive tone, it’s a way of connecting with the reader and even illiciting certain feelings.
Beyond an artistic realm, Your Sound is a representation and reflection of identity. Your voice and style scaffold your unique approach to life. Your sound signals who you are as a distinctive individual—akin to your fingerprint or footprint. People come to expect and become accustomed to your particular rhythms and cadences.
When your sound reveals the value of who you are . . .
Defining & Recognizing What Was Already There
Unassuming, with a contagious smile and convivial demeanor, singer-songwriter Michael Kiwanuka took a circuitous route to embrace his sound. From the time he was in grade school, Kiwanuka says that he was constantly trying to find his place. He dropped out of the Royal Academy of Music in London because “he was too busy sounding like what he thought they wanted him to sound like”—a feeling he didn’t like. Initially, he thought he would write for other artists; only with encouragement, he decided to write for himself. His sound emerged.
Melding jazz, R&B, rock, and blues, some say that his sound can’t be categorized. He’s even been compared to the iconic Otis Redding. His song “Cold Little Heart” is the soundtrack of HBO’s Big Little Lies. His eponymously titled album, nominated for a Grammy this year, is significant as an exploration of race and his cultural heritage, and the recognition of what sets him apart. “My place was always there, I just had to be me.”
When your sound lifts up and represents the value of an undervalued people and perspective . . .
The Architecture of Style
The Black Reconstruction Collective: Amanda Williams, Emanuel Admassu, J. Yolande Daniels, V. Mitch McEwen, Sekou Cooke, Germane Barnes, Felecia Davis, Mario Gooden, Walter Hood, and Olalekan Jeyifous.
The Black Reconstruction Collective is a group of multigenerational architects who came together to reimagine architecture from a Black perspective. The Collective emerged as Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York City exhibited their work “Reconstructions: Architecture and Blackness in America,” which will be up through the end of May. In an architectural world that has been bereft of black representation, the Collective’s manifesting statement declares that, “A nation constructed in conflict with its own ideals would need to be reconstructed before it could be fully constructed . . . We reject the boundaries established by nation-states, challenge the spatial manifestations of anti-Black racism and encourage creative agency and liberatory practices.”
To create the conditions for change, they frame architecture as a vehicle for liberation and joy, aspiring to design for a freedom towards self-determination. The reimagining of self-image, divorced from a Eurocentric lens, can lead towards a vital fully-restored sense of self. In a video series at Harvard University's Graduate School of Design and Columbia University’s Graduate School of Architecture, Planning, and Preservation, members of the Collective answered the question, “What does it mean to imagine Black Reconstruction today?” One thing is patently clear for these artists—the way to engage reconstruction, in architecture and other professions, is to place the collective ahead of the individual.
When your sound is guided by integrity and the principled fight for justice . . .
Resolute and purpose-filled, Senator Raphael Warnock’s maiden speech on the Senate floor received a heartfelt standing ovation, something not typical seen for first speeches. In measured, weighty tone, Warnock lambasted voter suppression tactics, saying: “This is Jim Crow in new clothes.” He declared, with regard to the urgency of passing the For the People Act, “The vote is a kind of prayer for the kind of world we desire for ourselves and for our children.” Reflecting on the fact that the seat he now fills was once held by white segregationist Herman E. Talmadge, Warnock views his work as a fight for the soul of our democracy, underscoring that we should give ourselves to something bigger than ourselves. Earnest and forward-thinking, his instinct—driven by his pastoral disposition—is to reach out and bring the arch of change towards Dr. King’s Beloved Community. Warnock spoke of the gratitude for having a voice, a chance, a possibility to stand up for democracy. “Your vote is your voice, and your voice is your dignity.”
Therein lies our agency—the possibility to determine what we want our sound to represent—for ourselves and to those it touches. Individually and collectively, we have the power to frame and shape those relationships. Your sound is a soul-enriching journey of creativity and discovery and, as such, the responsibility for raising consciousness is indeed ours.
