My last (but one, I suppose) teaching post, and my longest, was at a Roman Catholic comprehensive school. Songs had a bit of a role there as much as in any secondary. An excellent music department ensured that for special assemblies, presentation evenings etc. the pupils were prepared and familiar with a range of appropriate worship songs. (One of my close colleagues abhorred the move towards ‘evangelical country and western’ in RC worship, and would have been much happier with a few tasteful 17th century Marian anthems!) But I’m not thinking here about songs as used in our faith-school worship sessions – there were few really – teenagers simply do not sing together in that kind of setting – I’m thinking more about some of the ways we employed songs for other purposes, in other settings involving teaching and reflection. And these two songs represent two incidents memorable to me for the way songs were used, in both cases, motivationally, you could say.
Every few years or so, all schools have to suffer a grand ‘Inspection’ of course, and all the stops are pulled out (is that a musical metaphor? Pipe organ etc?) and everybody is on their best behaviour to put on a good show and to impress. Catholic schools have an extra dimension, of course, since some inspectors from church authorities will be looking to see (I presume?) that correct theology and appropriate ethical standards are promoted and maintained. The ‘year group’ assembly (once a week) would be one way to demonstrate that, you might think. Our head of the sixth form was a woman for whom I have enormous respect and affection, and I was never more proud of her than on the morning of her ‘showcase’ assembly opportunity during inspection week. While she might simply have gone for an easy option of choosing some smart kids to read out carefully articulated prayers, a little well practiced ‘psalm performance’ sung by a couple of more confident A level music students etc, what she actually did, once we were all seated and expectant, was to put on the recording of Nina Simone singing ‘Feeling Good’! It was perhaps unexpected, but the joy it elicited wasn’t merely because of the surprise quality – I’d defy anybody to listen to it even on a grey day, even in an educational establishment, and not to feel their spirits raised! Listen to it again and imagine how bravely almost-subversive it might have sounded in context! – that unaccompanied opening, the introduction of the sensuous beat and bass riffs, the almost-rallying call to freedom (!), the semi-anarchic scat singing! Perfect Catholic assembly.
I learnt something that day, or at least was reminded of it forcibly – that feel good music IS good theology in as far as it asserts the value of existence, the beauty and worth of life, and what on earth could be more important as a basis for any other spiritual, emotional or intellectual development? But it’s more than just ‘a life-affirming lift’ because of its infectious jazziness, or Ms Simone’s seductive growl… The whole thing in its simple but superb construction was an entirely appropriate choice to move the spirit forwards! Take, obviously, the refrain stirring us to consider life’s fresh possibilities and potential: ‘it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new-life..!’ In its delicious verses of rhyming triplets, the song leads us to images of the natural world –birds, sun, breeze…. Fish, river, blossom…. Dragonfly, butterfly, stars, pine scent…. if we’re even half aware of this catalogue to whom the singer calls, with whom she identifies, we get some sense of that intoxication, but the point of the identification is not just that we’re fellow-creatures, but in the shared sense of ‘freedom is mine!’. And by the time the song ends, we are totally with Nina – ‘And I’m feeling good!’ So thanks, Anne, for that memorable choice: your wisdom, taste and boldness, as ever! [Quickly and almost incidentally – a Newley and Bricusse song?! Could we ever have guessed? They deserve more respect as songwriting partnership than hitherto accorded maybe!]
The other occasion is perhaps not dissimilar. On Monday mornings before classes began, those who felt so inclined would gather for 20 minutes or so of prayer and reflection. For quite a few of the years I was there, I was responsible for overseeing this slot, essentially just drawing up of rotas for whose turn it would be to lead which particular Monday reflection. I like to think I was moderately creative, imaginative and varied when it was my turn to lead, though I was cautiously aware too (perhaps as token ecumenical /protestant ?) of the need for my ‘choices’ to make some valid scriptural or spiritual point. When it was the turn of my (dearly loved) head teacher Pete, he would often be far more adventurously imaginative, often bringing in unusual paintings, snippets from some piece of fiction and nonfiction he happened to be reading, but from it all he would generally weave something provocatively relevant to kickstart our prayers and our day. On one memorable occasion he said ‘I’m just going to put this song on the CD player. I’m not sure what it all means, but we probably know what the opening words of each verse mean, and we can get the gist!’ It was Joan Baez’s version of ‘Gracias a La Vida’ from the album of the same name.
He was being modest about his linguistic ability, I’m sure, but there is a sense in which he was right: you just need to know for starters that each verse begins ‘Thank you to Life!’ (and even better if you know ‘que me ha dado tanto’ means ‘which has given me so much!’) and then you can just let the driving energy and the powerful vivacity of the song carry you along, if not with an equal sense of gratitude, then at least with that clear affirmation of the power of being alive which we got from ‘Feeling Good’! And once again, you could say perhaps that this was indeed theology enough for a Monday morning, and if we could catch it, a perspective to set us up for the week, for life!
We didn’t analyse it, we didn’t need to. But if we had… there is even more in the detail to nourish our minds and hearts, I think. Six verses, basically life gets thanked for the following: eyes to see it all; the wonderful variety of the earth’s sounds; words, language, communication [one of my favourite bits – ‘el sonido y el abecedario/Con las palabras que pienso y declaro’ – I too am still thankful for the alphabet of language!]; strength to travel, different locations and environments; one’s physical being; (and finally) the whole range of emotion and experience. This sixth and final verse is the most powerful of all, expressing gratitude for sorrow as well as laughter, aware that these are “ los dos materials que forman mi canto” (the two fabrics that comprise her song) and aware too that one’s own song is connected with the songs of others, the song of life. Although ostensibly she addresses these thoughts to a lover (mi buen amado), there is the sense that she is encompassing all humanity in this common song.
Though popularised by Joan Baez, the song was written by Violetta Parra. When Sue and I were learning Spanish (sort of) in Seville, our Spanish teacher Joanne told us that if we made it to Chile we must look out for some music by Violetta Parra. Why we couldn’t have looked out for her music in other Latin countries, I don’t know, but she was sort of right: I found nothing by Parra from the cassette –vendors on Asuncion streets, but plenty from similar vendors on the streets of Santiago. There is a greater rawness, even melancholy, about her style and work, more than I’d imagined, but the glory of this astounding original composition of hers shines through with a compelling authenticity. ‘course… I still go back more regularly to the Baez version, for after all she was the one who has made it kind of ‘accessible’ for all of us gringos.
So thank you God for these songs! Thank you (for) Life! It’s a new dawn, a new day, a new life. And generally, by the way, most of the time, I’m feeling good!
Going for a Song 