~Cutting Ties~ Poem

Written By: Dee Parker

Sometimes...
you gotta let go of hands that once held you,
just to hold on to yourself.

I said,
Sometimes, you gotta love yourself loud enough
to let silence do the talking.

Lately.
I’ve been falling back,
from people, I laughed with,
Ate with,
Dreamed with.
Folks I would've gone to war for,
but never noticed I was already in one.

It’s not because I stopped loving them.
It’s because I finally started loving me!

I started noticing
when the room changed
but nobody said a word.
When my joy got smaller,
to make others feel comfortable.

Nah.
Not anymore!

Some people are like gangrene.
And I ain't saying that to be cruel
I'm saying that to be real.

You keep ignoring the infection,
next thing you know,
you’re losing more than a limb,
you’re losing yourself,
Your life!
Your light!
You're why!

So yeah,
I chose me.
Not in arrogance,
but in alignment.
Not with rage,
but with revelation.

Cutting ties ain’t always angry.
Sometimes, it’s graceful and quiet.
Sometimes it's, I still love you,
but from over here.
It’s I forgive you,
but I can’t keep handing you the knife.

It’s, I see you,
but I see me too now.

Because of peace.
Peace don’t plead.
Peace doesn’t perform.
Peace doesn’t sit in rooms where it’s constantly questioned.
Peace just leaves.

So I had to cut ties.
Cut ties.
Even the ones tied in childhood.
Even the ones stitched in struggle.

Because if the bond costs me my balance, well,
it’s not worth it.

Let me be clear,
This ain’t bitterness.
This is boundaries.
This is healing.
This is choosing life.

And yeah,
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.

But I’d rather grieve the loss of someone who meant me no good,
than mourn the loss of the man I’m becoming.

So I’m walking away.
Not cold,
but clean.
Not angry,
but aligned.
Not broken,
just brave.

It's all small steps to a giant!
(Random thoughts) 

D~Parker 5.3.2025

Black American-Run Country Music Associations Needed to Make a Comeback—Here’s Why

Are predominantly white institutions (PWIs) the end-all, be-all answer to tackling the country Music diversity dilemma? I think not.

Written By: Johnaé De Felicis

Charley Pride

Becoming a trailblazing Country Music superstar was an improbable destiny for Charley Pride considering his humble beginnings as a sharecropper’s son on a cotton farm in Sledge, Mississippi. His unique journey to the top of the music charts includes a detour through the world of Negro league, minor league and semi-pro baseball as well as hard years of labor alongside the vulcanic fires of a smelter. But in the end, with boldness, perseverance and undeniable musical talent, he managed to parlay a series of fortuitous encounters with Nashville insiders into an amazing legacy of hit singles and tens of millions in record sales.

Growing up, Charley was exposed primarily to Blues, Gospel and Country music.

On the heels of Beyoncé’s “Cowboy Carter” release, Black country artists had their mainstream moment amongst the genre’s fans. It was long overdue since it was us who helped create and pioneer country music, though racist industry politics have blocked most of our artists from shining in the big leagues. 

Reflecting on the genre’s beginnings, Indigenous pride comes to mind. Charley Pride, the first mainstream Black country artist, made big waves in this country music category. Yet, he experienced mislabeling in the same way that reclassified Indigenous Black Americans have in the U.S. “They used to ask me how it feels to be the ‘first colored country singer,‘ then it was ‘first Negro country singer,’ then the ‘first Black country singer.’ Now I’m the first African-American country singer.′ That’s about the only thing that’s changed,” he shared with The Dallas Morning News in 1992. 

Before Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter release, only a handful of Black country artists had achieved commercial recognition—Darius Rucker, Mickey Guyton, and Linda Martell, to name a few. Then you have accomplished artists like K-Michelle, who crossed over from R&B and other genres to country music, just to land back at square one and climb an uphill battle for a seat at the table. 

To date, only three Black country artists out of hundreds have been inducted into the Country Hall of Fame. And while Nashville’s Country Music Association claims to champion diversity and inclusion, I can’t help but think that it’s merely a performative response to societal pressure. Industry gatekeepers still don’t welcome Black country artists with open arms, no matter how talented they are. We saw that with Beyoncé.  Colonial-run institutions continue to move the line for what’s considered “country,” conveniently weaponizing this issue as an excuse to deny Black artists their deserved record deals and radio play. My observation of country music fans is that they don’t care if you’re black, white, yellow, purple, or blue. They just want damn good music. The institutions are guilty of rejecting many country artists of color by refusing to kick down their invisible white picket fence. Still, now that artists can directly reach their fans with social media, their “blessing” doesn’t matter anymore. It never did. 

As an artist and creative of color, I think I speak for us all when I say that we are past fighting for acceptance in predominantly white spaces. With the rise of emerging Black country artists, the case for Black American-run associations comes into play.

The History of Black Country Music Associations

Cleve Francis, M.D.

Singer, Songwriter, Performer and Physician (Photo by Rena Schild)

In 1995, a Black country artist collective aimed to ‘unblur’ the genre’s color lines. With that came the Black Country Music Association’s inception. Founded by country performer Cleve Francis, the Association challenged the status quo and the narrative of our musicians and our music. They went out of their way to ensure that the underdogs were given their flowers and considered as more than an afterthought, opening doors that they otherwise may not have been able to walk through themselves.  Francis departed from the organization in 1996, leaving country songwriter and performer Frankie Staton to become its frontrunner. The association cultivated a community amongst Black country artists magically. For example, they hosted their Black Country Music Showcase at Nashville’s famous Bluebird Cafe, a historic landmark and songwriter’s haven for testing new songs.

Thanks to the Black Country Music Association, ignored artists who needed a leg up in the business had an extra lifeline. The leaders, as country artists themselves, generously educated their successors on the industry’s ins and outs. 

The Black Country Music Association had an active presence in the late 1990s and early 2000s but has since dissolved. Yet, its legacy continues to live on. Two years ago, the Country Music Hall of Fame acknowledged the Association in their exhibit, American Currents: State of the Music. Today’s younger organizations, like the Black Opry and Nashville Music Equality, carry the torch in fighting for industry equity. 

From BCMA to Black Opry 

The Black Opry

Black Opry is home for Black artists, fans and industry professionals working in country, Americana, blues, folk and roots music.

In 2021, researchers from the University of Ottowa found that the 400 country artists in the US include only 1% who identify as Black and 3.2% who identify as BIPOC. Organizations like Black Opry, a modern-day twist on the Black Country Music Association, seek to change that. Its community of Black country, folk, blues, and Americana artists is boldly ushering in a new generation of Black country artists. Founder Holly G. started the Black Opry in April 2021 to advocate for country artists of color. What started as a community blog has since expanded to a huge movement of emerging Black country artists. The Black Opry comprises more than 90 musicians who have been featured in over 100 shows to date. Black Opry acts get ample stage time to sing and perform on their instruments, with other members doing backup vocals, giving them equal attention and visibility. I’m proud of this community for creating a safe space for marginalized country artists, ensuring that they go through the music journey as part of a supportive and active community of performers.

Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter release also opened the floodgates of widespread support for the Black Opry, as the album features members of the collective. The community exists as much for the fans as it does for the artists, further bridging the gap between the two groups. As a folk musician myself, I’ve come to realize that there’s an audience for everyone, regardless of skin color. 

Supporting The Future of Black Country Music

Linda Martell

A pioneering force hailed as the unsung hero of the genre, Linda Martell (82), was the first commercially successful Black female artist in country music. Martell had the highest peaking single on the Billboard Hot Country Singles (now Songs) chart at #22, “Color Him Father,” by a Black female country artist in the history of the genre in 1969, until Beyonce’s “Texas Hold ’Em” debuted at #1 on February 21st, 2024. Martell was notably the first Black woman to play the Grand Ole Opry stage.

Black country pioneers who paved the way for today’s artists, from Charley Pride to Linda Martell, faced roadblocks that we likely couldn’t fathom. Today’s Black country music associations are in place to keep those following in their footsteps from experiencing similar obstacles. Thanks to technology and social media cutting out the middleman, opportunities in country music are now more accessible than ever.  Supporting each other also goes a long way. Cowboy Carter introduced us to some newer Black faces in country music who have been putting in work for years, like Tanner Adell and Reyna Roberts. And then you have hybrid artists like Shaboozey and Breland who are innovatively merging the worlds of country and hip-hop.  

These artists are what country music needs to evolve in a forward-moving direction. They’re pushing boundaries in a way that we haven’t seen before, and it’s a breath of fresh air. There’s no limit on how far these rising talents can go, especially with a strong, sustained community like ours backing them. 

~Thinking~

POEM
Written By: D~Parker

Sitting back thinking about things I was taught growing up. 

Thinking about times, I was dealing with things I don't speak about.

Thinking about times, when I kept smiling on the outside but was worried about things on the inside.

Thinking about all of the obstacles I have faced all I could do was pray and keep pushing forward. 

Thinking about my grandmother and taking her advice to heart. 

Thinking about ways I can be a better version of myself.

Thinking about why we are stuck in survival mode instead of living life to the fullest. Then realizing survival mode is what has carried us this far.

Thinking about generational curses and past traumas.

Thinking about ways to heal and move past them.

Then it hits me, that pivotal moment an epiphany if one must say. 

It's all small steps to a giant and with this, I continue my day. 

(Revised)

( Random thoughts)
D~Parker 12.16.2024

History Speaks: The Black Experience in Southeast Kentucky

Written By: Emily jones Hudson

History Speaks: The Black Experience in Southeast Kentucky is a series that shares the stories of African Americans living in the hills of Southeast Kentucky. Our roots are deep in the mountains but have stretched beyond these hollowed hills. Voices from the past and present herald the presence of Black life in these mountains and quietly whisper: "We were here." "We are still here."

Emily Jones Hudson
I spent my early "growing up" years in Hazard, Kentucky struggling to reconcile my identity as and African American and an Appalachian. A Black person living in the hills of Southeast Kentucky. Coming Full Circle introduces my quest for identity and explains my passion to share the stories of African Americans living in these mountains, past and present.

Coming Full Circle was originally published in my book, Soul Miner, A Collection of Poetry and Prose, in 2017 and revised for my column, History Speaks: Voices From Southeast Kentucky.

Coming Full Circle

They say these mountains separate. They say these mountains isolate. When I was young and growing up in these mountains, they kept the world out. I grew up to embrace these mountains, their history and story; they became etched in my soul. I was raised up listening to my father’s stories of coal-camp life and to his version of Jack Tales; to grandpa’s stories of hunting in the woods, burying sweet potatoes in the ground, of working his farm up on the hill and a mine below the hill. These mountains’ hold grew strong on me.

It was not until I began my journey beyond the boundary of these mountains that I was able to meet you, my beautiful African sister. You told me stories from the Motherland, the cradle of civilization. I told you Mother Earth stories. You draped your body in a beautiful rainbow of colors. I dressed in blue jeans and hiking boots. And then we shared the woman-secrets passed down from mothers and grandmothers, from generation to generation. These woman-secrets kept them strong. They had to be strong to survive. We found a common bond. You taught me of the Motherland, and I began to understand why you walked so proud with head held high. We discovered that Motherland and Mother Earth were one in the same.

But soon the mystique of my mountains awakened from deep within and began to call me. I knew my journey was home bound. I wanted to bring my beautiful African sister home with me to meet my mountain sisters. You came. I now embrace a triad of cultures: African, African-American, and Appalachian.

Home. These mountains are home to me. Mother Earth. It was here in these mountains that I grew into womanhood. I say “grew” into womanhood because early childhood years were tom-boy years. I played rough and tough with my brothers. I thought I was no different. I climbed the apple trees in grandpa’s yard on Town Mountain. I climbed the coal cars that straddled the tracks across from my uncle’s house in Kodak. We built forts above our house and named them Fort Boonesboro and Fort Harrodsburg. I thought I was no different.

As I grew older, I learned to appreciate the mountains, their quietness and stillness. They became my friend as I would spend countless hours living beneath the treetops lost in my dreams. What did it mean to be a young woman growing up in these Southeastern Kentucky hills? What did it mean to be a young black woman growing up in these mountains? You see, I felt there was no difference.

I loved the life of tradition. I grew up watching my mother quilt, canned tomatoes and put up beans. My father grew corn upon the hill behind the house. I remember the Sunday trips to the coal camp to visit my Uncle Ralph and Aunt Frankie. It was always dusk when we would catch a glimpse of my uncle coming up the holler wearing coal dust on his face and carrying an old dinner bucket. I dreamed of writing music, playing my guitar, and becoming a country music singer. It seemed such a simple life. My mountains kept out anything that threatened to upset that simplicity.

And then I left the shelter of my mountains as daddy sent me off to college to follow my brother. Berea College welcomed me with open arms, and I found that I could still maintain some of that simplicity and Appalachian flavor. It was here during my college years that I was exposed to true cultural diversity. Coming from a small mountain town where everyone was related one way or another, I had never before seen so many people of color all together at once! I was introduced to my African brothers and sisters. I became enchanted and obsessed with finding my roots and discovering how they linked together. I was enticed to look into my mirror. I saw two women I did not know. The first woman carried a peace and freedom sign and invited me to march to Selma with her. The second woman walked so graceful with a basket balanced atop her head and beckoned me to join her at the Congo. I was intrigued and mystified and wanted to know more about the women who extended their hands in greeting to me from my mirror.

I began to learn about the rich African culture and how early civilization was there in the ancient cradle. I discovered a whole new world, and I began to think, “I have missed so much life while being rocked and sheltered in the arms of my mountains.”

Then an incident occurred that turned my mirror inside out. I was one of the founding team members that started the campus radio station, one of three African-American students and the only female. My program included contemporary rhythm and blues and many times I worked the night-owl shift. During my senior year as I began to think about graduation and job hunting, a friend convinced me to make a demo tape and send it to radio stations. I mulled it over in my mind. Three years’ experience working for the campus radio station. First female disc jockey. Surely, I would not have any problems finding a job with a radio station. I sent my resume and cover letter to a Black radio station in Indianapolis. I had visited relatives there often and that was the choice radio station to listen to. Before long I received a reply. They were so impressed with my resume and requested a demo tape. I put the demo tape together, rushed it to them and then played the anticipation game. I just knew they had a job for me based on their reply to my resume. Their second response, however, was not what I expected to hear: “There must be some kind of mistake. This can’t possibly be the same person on the demo tape that sent the resume.” And then there it was: “You don’t SOUND black! You sound like a hillbilly!” That is what they essentially said. I still have the demo tape buried in a trunk, but I did not try to bury my accent, that part of my cultural background. But that incident caused me to look harder and longer into my mirror.

After graduation I did make it to Indianapolis to work for a Black-owned weekly newspaper. I was the women’s editor and the only female reporter in the male-dominated newsroom. I still listened to that choice radio station. Eventually I landed in Cleveland where I spent 12 years getting to know the other women in the mirror. I worked for an organization that was female-led and culturally oriented. I was exposed to so much more of my African-American culture as well as African heritage. The founder and owner of the organization later admitted that she did not know how to take me at first. She said I was too light to be black. I was living on the west side of Cleveland in Parma where Black folks just did not live. And then I opened my mouth, there was that accent. She was not aware that African Americans lived in Southeast Kentucky. She was only seeing what the media chose to show.

As our local history has written, I found that many African-Americans living in Cleveland were born and raised in the hills of Southeast Kentucky, but they did everything they could to shed that suit and put on another, including dispensing of their accent. They blended in. They had been there too long and had no intention of ever returning to the mountains to live. But I could not change suits; if anything, I wanted to add different apparel to my wardrobe.

The mountains kept calling me home. As people told me, “You’re not Black enough for the city,” the mountains reminded me of my true home. I brought my new-found friends from the looking-glass with me; they were now part of me. I returned to the mountains like so many prodigal sons and daughters before me. I had come full circle.

These mountains no longer separate. These mountains no longer isolate. And yes, you can come home again.

And the Oscar Goes To…Blacks, the Academy, and Representation.

Written By: Aaron Whitlow

Back in 1939, Hattie McDaniel won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for her role in Gone With the Wind (1939).  McDaniel was only allowed into the venue with a strict “No Blacks” policy as a favor, and even then, she was segregated to her table in the very back of the room. No other blacks won that specific award again until Whoopie Goldberg did for her performance in the 1990 film Ghost. Mammy and Oda Mae Brown's differences are distinctive yet oddly similar. Mammy was a slave who took care of the needs of her white owners but still had enough independence to speak up to Scarlett when she started to get a little too out of sorts, and Oda Mae Brown was a con artist working as a psychic unknowing that she was actually a magical negro.  Brown had no problem speaking her mind, but it was still utilized to advance the story of the white characters much like Mammy.

Why are we often nominated and applauded for portraying characters that lean into stereotypes and tropes yet overlooked for strong characters?  Sidney Poitier was the first African American to be nominated and win the Best Actor award for his performance in Lilies of the Field (1963). For that time, it was amazing that Poitier did not play a thug, a slave, or a mentally challenged individual but a strong, knowledgeable, and skilled traveler.  Let’s fast forward to the next time an African American was nominated and won the Best Actor award. Denzel Washington played a street-wise yet corrupt cop in the 2001 film Training Day. No doubt about Washington’s ownership of such a flawed character, but one could easily argue he outworked himself when he played real-life Civil Rights activist Malcolm el Shabazz in Spike Lee’s film Malcolm X(1992). Washington did such a great job as the assassinated leader that it is still hard to buy anyone else portraying him.

I am not saying we have not won awards or been recognized for other types of characters because we have. From Jamie Fox as Ray Charles to Forest Whitaker as Idi Amin; we have enough talent to pull off any performance, however, we can’t ignore the performances and the type of characters played by Hallie Berry, Cuba Gooding Jr. and Will Smith.

Lastly, as we look forward to a year that showcases blacks nominated for Best Actor (Jeffrey Wright and Colman Domingo), Best Supporting Actor ( Sterling K. Brown), and Best Supporting Actress (Danielle Brooks and Da’Vine Joy Randolph) let us not forget that in 2023 we saw a look of defeat on the face of Angela Bassett when she lost to Jamie Lee Curtis. Curtis’ win was dubbed long overdue, but the same can be said for Bassett, who had at that point turned in powerful performances in her long filmography that we all have loved, but at the end of the day, what’s love got to do with it?

The History of Black People in Advertisements and Commercials

By: Lamont Pearley Jr.

In everyone's day-to-day life, they receive some form of information or entertainment. Whether it is on Television, Youtube, Movies, Billboards, Radio, and Newspapers. Everything I mentioned has one major thing in common, Commercials and Advertisements. The difference between the two is Commercials are usually broadcasted on Television or Radio, and Advertisements are usually Print Media. Commercials have been around since 1941 and Advertisements have been around since the early 1700s. The very first Commercial was aired for the Bulova Watch Company. The ad was only 10 seconds long and cost between 4 - 9 USD. Today, there is a big jump in price points since Commercials aired during the Super Bowl costs 7 Million USD for 30 seconds.  Along with the origins of Commercials, there is a history of Black presentation in advertisements.

Black People weren’t always treated well throughout history and Commercials weren’t the exception. Black people were being used as a way to sell products to people, some examples being Aunt Jemima, Uncle Bens, and The Quintessential Mammy. The Quintessential Mammy is a stereotype depicting Black Women who work in White households and take care of children. She is usually visualized as a fat, dark-skinned woman with a motherly personality. This was the woman that was not only pivotal in the black community, but raised the children of white plantation owners, making her a comfortable image to white America. An article published by raceandethnicity.org explains Ads like “The Gent in the Window” are created as ways to promote their product and make White People feel comfortable reading these ads. From 1830 up until 1941 whenever a black person was shown in an Advertisement it was racially offensive. In 1948 Jax Beer created a Commercial called “Whistle up a party”, the first non-racist African American Commercial. This made an impact on how Black People would become viewed in Ads for the future.

Starting in the 1960’s the Civil Rights Movement made African American Advertisements an important issue to fix. Don Cornelius intentionally utilized black Advertising companies and businesses for Soul Train. An article on Soul Train by theguardian.com quotes Don saying “I want black folks to be seen how black folks should be seen: strong, powerful, and beautiful”. Soul Train was something black families could always look forward to watching, knowing that their people were being represented in a good light. John H. Johnson founded Ebony and Jet Magazines in 1945, the first Black Owned Advertisement company. Ebony and Jet Magazine published an issue in 1955 showing Emmett Till's dead corpse in a casket. During the Civil Rights movement in the 1960s, Ebony and Jet Magazines published multiple magazines about political events involving activists protesting racial violence and advocated for increasing social mobility for African Americans across the diaspora. The peak of Ebony and Jet Magazine was in the 1980s when they had a circulation of 2.3 million. In 2021 the changes that the Civil Rights Movement was fighting for became implemented on products such as Aunt Jemima brand changing to Pearl Milling Company. Uncle Ben’s also changed in 2020 from “Uncle Ben’s” to “Ben’s Original”. Due to the civil unrest that was going on in 2020 the majority of Commercials seen on television were related to Black Lives Matter. Companies and Brands were Advertising Black Lives Matter. For the whole month of February, the NBA had Black Lives Matter merchandise and logos on Jerseys.

A lot of historic black people made significant contributions to how African Americans would be viewed in Advertisements and Commercials. Vince Cullers created his own agency called Vince Cullers Advertising. He created this to help showcase and create Ads geared to African Americans. Then there is Carol H Williams. Williams started working in the Advertising Business in 1969 and created her business in 1986. She is the first African American female Creative Director to be inducted into the American Advertising Federation’s Advertising Hall of Fame in 2017. 

Currently in media, we see black people in Advertisements all the time, at the very least more than in the past. What made this change happen? Many things. What I do know is the stories I mentioned should be talked about more to usher in a solution for equality.

the blues that sprung from my roots

BY: KYLE THOMPSON 

Growing up, I was often teased by my peers in school for liking blues. I did not mind though. I preferred the culture and history of the Blues instead of consuming dominant pop culture at the time. I had no true explanation as to why I felt the way I did about the Blues- I just did. Being a black man from the suburbs was my way of engaging with my environment. Some people say the Blues is something that comes to you, rather than you coming to it. Other people say you get the blues over a person you love. I think both are true, in a way, but no one has to live a hard life to feel the Blues. I got the blues yesterday when I dropped my sandwich on the ground.

There is something to this magnificent music that draws my ears in a way like no other. People always say that there is that one song that you hear, and when it grabs you, it holds you to your very core. I would say most, if not all blues music I came in contact with had that effect on me.  One benefit of growing up in the age of the internet was that I had options to craft my individuality the way I saw fit. In this case, I dived deep into the blues, because it was always at my fingertips. The way I saw it, why would I only listen to what was popular when I could literally explore any genre I wanted? I listened to punk, afrobeat, hip hop, gospel, and classical music. In each of these genres, I found the blues. It was so interesting to me understanding how everyone’s favorite band loved and admired the blues so greatly, yet everyday people didn’t seem to care about blues. 

I quickly learned that people’s perception of the Blues were heavily misguided. Some people thought it was just a black man strumming a guitar down south singing about whiskey and women. Other people reduced its complexity to being just a music that gave birth to Rock n’ Roll. The Blues in this narrative was an antiquated sonic form, its only purpose being a stepping stone to the development of rock and roll. Very few people were intentional in saying what it actually was though- an African American art form. I see the blues as a folkloric element to the Black experience that is passed down through generations- verbally or nonverbally. When I was a child growing up, my grandfather would sit in the back of his truck and listen to the radio. Oftentimes, I would tag along, and together we would spend afternoons sitting in his car listening to Blues music on the radio. I was much younger then, barely past four or five, however I knew that what I was experiencing was something special. I had no words to describe what that experience felt like until years later, when I came across a well-known painting called The Banjo Lesson by Henry Ossawa Tanner. In that image, I saw an aesthetic contextualizing the relationship with my own grandfather- a Black man passing down culture and folklore to a younger generation. 

The blues has roots in field hollers, slave spirituals, and work songs meant to uplift the spirits of enslaved Africans brought to America. The pain, hardship, and inequality of slavery would naturally bring about a sound of music and cultural expression reflective of their environment. As slavery became replaced by the impact of Jim Crow, it became a new barrier to the success of the Black community to achieve and thrive. The blues acted as that healing, secular music that would be a form of release after a long day of work. Musicians would channel their experiences into singing about their lives, their experiences, and their emotions. I hear more than an aesthetically pleasing sound of music listening to blues. I heard the sounds of grandparents and their elders, recorded so long ago. I hear backyard fish fries, I hear trains bustling down the railroad, I hear cottonfields, I hear cars driving up and down the city highway, I hear community centers, I hear Thanksgiving, I hear Christmas with family, and I hear vestiges of African culture. The lives, slang, style, and morals were wrapped in the painful and profound. In a sense, when I listened to the blues, I was receiving this heritage that was apart of a larger narrative and experience. I found where I fit in my own culture, and in turn, where America and the world fit in with my expression. 

OKLAHOMA BLUES

BY: SELBY MINNER AND IRENE JOHNSON 

“Da-dut – da-dah-duh – dah-de-dup!” My bass rang out across the crowd… I could hardly breathe! He had me starting the song as a solo – indeed the whole set! Up the steps he came, out from behind the stage and into the light, sporting a yellow ice cream suit and a big red guitar. The drums kicked in, the rest of the band, and then… Mr. Lowell Fulson hit the microphone and the place came alive: “TRAMP! You can call me that! But I’m a LOVER!” I was holding the bass line – one of the greatest bass lines. The man at the top of the West Coast blues was back home in Tulsa, and Juneteenth on Greenwood was rocking! D.C. was wearing “old shiny” – his green and red tux jacket – with his red guitar, Big Dave 'Bigfoot' Carr was in from Spencer, OK, with his sax, Jimmy Ellis on guitar and vocals, and Bob ‘Pacemaker’ Newham on traps. It was 1989 and Lowell Fulson was at home to be inducted into the Oklahoma Jazz Hall of Fame. He later said he would come back to play the Traditions Festival in Oklahoma City in the fall, but only if he had the same backup band! Such an honor to play with an Oklahoma legend!

Oklahoma’s unique history and heritage provided fertile ground to grow its particular blues sound. Before we can dive into the blues, though, we need to travel back to Oklahoma before it gained statehood in 1907. I call it the wild west – where anything could happen.

Between the 1830s to 1850s, Native Americans of the Five Tribes were forcibly marched on the Trails of Tears from their homelands in the southeastern United States to the eastern part of modern Oklahoma, then called “Indian Territory.” With them, they brought their African American slaves. It must be understood that slavery in Indian Territory varied widely – ranging from resembling white cotton plantations, to commonly practicing intermarriage and allowing other extended freedoms. Linda Reese cites, “By the time of the outbreak of the Civil War in 1861, the tribes' members owned approximately ten thousand slaves.”1

The Civil War was fought from 1861 to 1865. Dr. Hugh W. Foley, Jr. writes, “The Civil War’s presence in Indian Territory is directly related to Black pride in the area, as the Battle of Honey Springs, fought July 17, 1863, witnessed the first pitched combat by uniformed African American troops, the First Kansas Colored Volunteer Infantry Regiment, who fought alongside Anglo and American Indian troops. Fought just north of what is now Rentiesville, the battle has been called the ‘Gettysburg of the West.’”2 It was a running battle there at Honey Springs – some of it actually took place on our land where my husband D.C. Minner and I established the Down Home Blues Club (which hosts the Rentiesville Dusk ‘Til Dawn Blues Festival, the Oklahoma Blues Hall of Fame and the D.C. Minner Rentiesville Museum). Some of the soldiers from that battle went on to help found Rentiesville. 

The end of the Civil War sparked big transitions for the “Twin Territories” of Indian Territory and Oklahoma Territory. Reese explains, “The government insisted on the abolition of slavery and the incorporation of the Freedmen [former slaves] into their respective tribal groups with full citizenship rights. All of the Indian nations were willing to end slavery, but citizenship rights conferred access to land and tribal monies as well as political power.”1 Despite tribal attempts to maintain control of their land and tribal monies through the U.S. courts, Freedmen were ultimately given full rights. The Dawes Act, which was the federal government’s way of breaking up commonly held tribal land into individual allotments, granted Freedmen “approximately two million acres of property, the largest transfer of land wealth to Black people in the history of the United States.”3

Reese goes on, “Freedmen from adjoining states had slipped into the territory for years, intermarrying with their Black Indian counterparts or homesteading illegally, but now the opening of Indian lands to non-Indian settlement gained momentum and brought hundreds of migrants both Black and white.”1 Oklahoma, considered the “First Stop Out of the South,” was indeed the “promised land” for about a 30-year window, offering land allotments and opportunity. It was close enough to the South to travel by wagon, folks could grow the same crops, and since it was not yet a state, there were no oppressive Jim Crow laws. 

Freedmen often decided to settle together. It was at this point that the idea for all-Black towns developed. Larry O’Dell explains, “They created cohesive, prosperous farming communities that could support businesses, schools and churches, eventually forming towns. Entrepreneurs in these communities started every imaginable kind of business, including newspapers, and advertised throughout the South for settlers.”4 I’ve heard it said, the word was “tremendous opportunity, come help us do this… don’t come lazy and don’t come broke!” 

The upshot of this opportunity was that more than 50 all-Black towns were established. These towns emphasized education, self-governance, strong churches and communities, and were held together by the economic security of their agricultural land. They believed that education was the key to a better future; the schools were strict and people graduated high school. My husband, Rentiesville native and bluesman D.C. Minner used to say, “If I did not get my lesson, I got a whoopin’ from the teacher. On my way home, my friend’s mom would give me a whoopin’, and when I got down here to the house Mama [his grandmother who raised him, Miss Lura] would give me a whoopin’, and she didn’t even want to know what I did wrong! If I got it from the others, she just had one coming too!” 

Here’s where we can pick up on the music coming out of Oklahoma. Foley explains that the opportunities available during this time crafted the music legacy of the region; “Access to music lessons, instruments and mentors help explain why more African American musicians from Oklahoma developed the advanced musical skills necessary to evolve into jazz artists… As social and economic conditions changed for the state's African Americans by the 1920s and 1930s, more musicians born during that time period evolved into traditional, guitar-based practitioners of the blues.”5 Musicians who could read jazz charts went east and worked in almost every major jazz ensemble out of New York. 

The jazz and blues players in Oklahoma were, in many ways, one community, particularly in major cities, such as Oklahoma City, Tulsa and Muskogee. In an interview with Bill Wax on Sirius XM’s B.B. King Bluesville, B.B. King said, “Jazz players say you can’t play good jazz unless you know the blues.” And D.C. said, “The R&B and blues bands here in the ‘50s and ‘60s all started their blues sets with an hour of instrumental jazz, so people could come in and get comfortable, and so the horn players could work out and do solos before they had to settle down to ‘blow parts’ – be rhythm players, essentially.” So, you see, there’s a blurred line there between jazz and blues here.

Given its history, plus the connection to Texas and the West Coast (you can drive to California without scaling the Rocky Mountains; there is a lot of work out there for musicians), I call Oklahoma – and Texas – “the cradle of the West Coast Blues.” Blues from Oklahoma is unique. Its sound includes horn sections, it’s a little smoother and the players dress – they consider themselves a little more “city” or “slicker.” 

An integral part of Oklahoma’s blues sound developed with the Texas-Oklahoma “Hot Box” guitar style. Unlike the slide playing or finger picking styles from the Piedmont and Mississippi-Chicago sounds, the “Hot Box” guitar style is a single-note lead style that has a great local lineage that eventually crossed over to rock ‘n roll. Starting around 1900, players of this style include Blind Lemon Jefferson (possibly the earliest to record this style), jazz innovator Charlie Christian (the first to put electric guitar solos into jazz), T-Bone Walker, Freddie King, Stevie Ray Vaughan, B.B. King to Eric Clapton and beyond. The Hot Box single-note lead style is the style of most American rock ‘n roll to this day! B.B. King said in another Bill Wax interview, “I am from Mississippi, but my fingers are too lazy to play Mississippi style, I play Texas!” 

There is no “music industry” per se in Oklahoma like there is in Nashville, Austin or Chicago; most people who play professionally work out of state. But since there are lots of juke joints in these towns – five in Rentiesville alone – there’s still a lot of music! Oklahoma has produced numerous great musicians and I’d love to tell about each and every one, but I’ll have to settle for highlighting just a few, with the help of Hugh W. Foley, Jr.’s “Blues” for the Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History and Culture.5 

Hart Wand of Oklahoma City actually published “Dallas Blues,” the first 12-bar blues on sheet music, in March of 1912 – the same year W.C. Handy published “Memphis Blues,” widely considered the first blues song.  

There were several territorial bands that played a circuit in the early 1900s across Oklahoma, Texas, Arkansas, Kansas, Missouri and Nebraska. The best of these bands was the Oklahoma City Blue Devils, which later became the core of the Count Basie Band out of Kansas City. Truly the bluesiest of all the touring jazz bands, I would say. 

Jay McShann supplemented his passion for the blues with what he learned in the Manual Training High School band of Muskogee, OK, and went on to lead one of the great blues-based big bands of the 1930s and 1940s out of Kansas City. His "Confessin' the Blues" was one of the biggest selling records for a Black artist in the early ‘40s.5 

Joe "The Honeydripper" Liggins charted a number of singles, including "The Honeydripper" and "Pink Champagne,” during the late 1940s and early 1950s with his streamlined rhythm and blues. His brother, Jimmy Liggins, led an amplified R&B group that preluded rock ‘n roll with hits like "Cadillac Boogie," "Saturday Night Boogie Man," "Drunk" and later, his now-classic blues song "I Ain't Drunk." Bandleader, drummer and songwriter Roy Milton’s “jump blues” served as a precursor to rock ‘n roll.5 

Jimmy “Chank” Nolen was another of Oklahoma's important blues guitarists. Credited for inventing the "chicken scratch" guitar style, Nolen is considered the “father of funk guitar.”5 The chord on the guitar is played in such a way that is very percussive, like a drum beat. Since it makes guitar rhythms very danceable, James Brown picked Nolen up to record as primary guitarist on several major hits. 

Gospel and soul-blues singer Ted Taylor experienced success with his falsetto-driven voice in the 1950s- ‘70s. Guitarist Wayne Bennett worked with Elmore James, Jimmy Reed, Otis Spann, Otis Rush and Bobby "Blue" Bland. Verbie Gene "Flash" Terry recorded the hit, "Her Name is Lou,” and later toured with T-Bone Walker, Bobby "Blue" Band, Floyd Dixon and others.5 

Guitarist Jesse Ed Davis, a Native American with Comanche, Kiowa and Muscogee heritage, toured with Conway Twitty in the early ‘60s before moving to California and joining Taj Mahal. Davis’ “reputation led to sessions for Leon Russell, Jackson Browne, Eric Clapton, John Lennon, Ringo Starr and Captain Beefheart, as well as four of [his] own solo albums.”5 

Larry Johnson and the New Breed (with D.C. Minner on bass) were the house band at the Bryant Center in Oklahoma City, playing several nights a week and backing up touring headliners like Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley for almost 10 years.

Lowell Fulson is probably Oklahoma’s most widely recognized blues guitar star. “By adding a horn section in the mode of swing bands to his electric blues lineup, Fulson created what is typically called the ‘uptown blues’ sound, which B. B. King made famous. Fulson's huge 1950 R&B hit, ‘Everyday I Have the Blues,’ became King's theme song”5 – surfacing the Texas-Oklahoma “Hot Box” guitar sound once again to evolve into what we know as the popular blues style!

Foley concludes, “Anglo-American blues men who emerged primarily from the Tulsa scene in the 1960s include pianist Leon Russell and guitarists J. J. Cale and Elvin Bishop.”5

I could keep going – multi-award-winning Watermelon Slim, extraordinary blues belter Dorothy “Miss Blues” Ellis, Jimmy Rushing of the Blue Devils and Count Basie's Orchestra, and so many more – but I’ll end my abridged round-up with my late husband, blues guitarist D.C. Minner.

D.C. was raised in Rentiesville by his grandmother, who owned and operated a grocery store/juke joint called the Cozy Corner in the 1940s- ‘60s. Here, he was exposed to all the music coming through. He toured, playing with Larry Johnson and the New Breed, Lowell Fulson, Chuck Berry, Freddie King, Bo Diddley, Jimmy Reed and Eddie Floyd before starting our own band, Blues on the Move. In 1988, we got tired of the road and moved from the California Bay Area back to Rentiesville, and reopened his grandmother’s old juke joint as the Down Home Blues Club. 

In 1989, we established the Blues in the Schools program through the Oklahoma State Arts Council. In 1991, we started the Rentiesville Dusk 'Til Dawn Blues Festival to feature local and regional blues artists, and it has become the longest running blues festival in the state and renowned nationwide. It’s here, where I also still run our other projects – the Oklahoma Blues Hall of Fame and the D.C. Minner Rentiesville Museum. 

In 1999, we received the Keeping the Blues Alive Award from The Blues Foundation for our efforts and contribution to music education and blues history. D.C. went on to being inducted into seven Halls of Fame, including the Oklahoma Jazz Hall of Fame in 1999 and the Oklahoma Music Hall of Fame in 2003. 

D.C believed, “This is one of the few places where this history is still left,” and I work diligently and joyfully to keep the blues – and this rich history – preserved and alive in Oklahoma. 

Blues singer-bassist Selby Minner toured for 12 years with her husband D.C. Minner and their band Blues on the Move before settling in Rentiesville, OK. She continues to perform and teach, and keeps the Oklahoma blues tradition alive through her weekly Sunday Jam Sessions, the Dusk 'Til Dawn Blues Festival, the Oklahoma Blues Hall of Fame (OBHOF), and the D.C. Minner Rentiesville Museum. For more information, visit: DCMinnerBlues.com.

References

1. Linda Reese, “Freedmen,” The Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History and Culture, https://www.okhistory.org/publications/enc/entry.php?entry=FR016.

1. Dr. Hugh W. Foley, Jr, “From Black Towns to Blues Festivals,” Funded by the Oklahoma Humanities Council and the National Endowment for the Humanities. http://dcminnerblues.com/?page_id=167. 

2. Victor Luckerson, “The Promise of Oklahoma,” Smithsonian Magazine, https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/unrealized-promise-oklahoma-180977174. 

1. Larry O'Dell, “All-Black Towns,” The Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History and Culture, https://www.okhistory.org/publications/enc/entry.php?entry=AL009.

2. Hugh W. Foley, Jr., “Blues,” The Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History and Culture, https://www.okhistory.org/publications/enc/entry.php?entry=BL016.

MAKE SURE TO CHECK BLUES FESTIVAL MAGAZINE FOR MORE!

Exploring the Past through Ring Shout in Paule Marshall’s “Praisesong for the Widow”

BY CHELSEA ADAMS 

Scholars and writers often use the idea or geography of Africa to indicate a return-to-roots journey for black people. The focus of the roots theme is a temporal shift, moving from the present to the past to discover ancestral roots, ceremonies, and cultural traditions that existed before slavery pillaged and plundered tribal lands. While recovering and remembering these people, cultures, and traditions is important work, it is often used as proof of African evolution from primitive to sophisticated cultural formations. Romanticism of the past often contributes to the idea that at its heart, black culture has a “wildness” to it, instilling Western ideas about blackness to the cultural mainstream. David F. Garcia states in his work Listening for Africa: Freedom, Modernity, and the Logic of Black Music’s African Origins, that scholarly intent to establish proof of racial equality by focusing on black bodies may have unintentionally damaged the cause of freedom.

Looking at black music and dance development in both the US and the Caribbean, Garcia identifies how Western cultural standards dominated discussions of culture, focusing on how racialized and sexualized bodies represented the primitive and savage through performance. Using theatrical productions, film, and performance hall recitals that “reproduced” African dance as historical “evidence,” viewers and scholars alike came to believe in Africa as a space that had not changed over the centuries, a haven for historical origins to which each member of the African diaspora could trace their roots. The “evolution” of culture for black people, then, could be said to come from the influence of Western European standards, as evidenced by the achievements of African Americans. Such racial categorizations were vital in maintaining racial boundaries, associating new, popular music styles with African origins to keep societal norms in place, associating blackness with the primitive and “wild,” whiteness with advancement and sophistication. 

According to Garcia, perhaps the greatest danger of this scholarly and now even popular practice is “these contexts’ blockages that transform sound and movement from affective flow to, for example, African and European, black and white, or primitive and modern music and dance such that people are made temporally and spatially distant from each other” (270). While Garcia acknowledges that it may be impossible to rid discussion of historical timelines and individual motivations, he does advocate for a more complete look at art forms instead of segmenting them into categories of black and white, us and them.

Garcia’s approach is useful when reading Paule Marshall’s Praisesong for the Widow, which at first seems to fit in the category of the back-to-Africa novel, one that offers a temporal shift that takes its main character, Avey Johnson, from a US, middle class society to a Caribbean, working class society to recover her cultural origins. Avey is able to participate in a blending of cultures, traditions, and names, where “as the names transcend their original identity, they enter a space of total possibility. Their combinatory potential is now virtually infinite” (Boelhower 23). The spatial shift from the U.S. to the Caribbean, to the island nearest Africa, serves not as a complete return to ancient traditions, but as a space to view the diaspora and new cultural growth, both Avey’s own and other diasporic cultures. I suggest that what is at stake in Praisesong for the Widow is the recovery of individual identity and expression through a remembrance of family, rather than purely ancestral, traditions that bring Avey to self-fulfillment as she reorients herself to accept that culture should exist outside of the Western understanding of cultural binaries. The main recovery tools are African American art forms that come from a combination of cultural traditions in the U.S.

Avey receives cultural and spiritual renewal when she goes to the Big Drum ceremony on Carriacou. It is at the ceremonial proceedings that she reconnects with her Aunt Cuney through the ritual dance of the Ring Shout, and then her namesake, Avatara. Speaking of this event, where Avey becomes an active participant in the cultural traditions of the island, Lean’tin Bracks states, “The Beg Pardon dance is a crucial part of Avey’s island experience, for it proclaims that all are able to return to the celebration of ancestors, rituals, and traditions even after being lost” (116-7). Such a return through the Beg Pardon would not be possible for Avey, however, if it weren’t for Lebert Joseph and the elders in the group who sit in a sacred circle with “arms opened, faces lifted to the darkness, the small band of supplicants endlessly repeated the few lines that comprised the Beg Pardon, pleading and petitioning not only for themselves and for the friends and neighbors present in the yard, but for all their far-flung kin as well” (236). Without help, she would not experience the healing and renewal at the ceremony, because she does not know how to perform the ritual herself. The circle of elders holds significance for two main reasons: first, as Katrina Hazzard-Donald states, the sacred circles formed in ceremonial dances “represented a reality which connected one to the ancestors and reconfirmed a continuity through time and space” (196). The circle dance creates the opportunity for Avey to connect with her memories and her ancestral heritage to be filled with the strength and cultural knowledge. Second, as Bracks states, the intercession of the elders during the Big Drum Ceremony to offer up the Beg Pardon for their families and the world offers Avey an opportunity to see that “knowledge found in ancestral experiences is not only a function of historical memory as passed down from generation to generation, but also of current cultural practice that is available firsthand from those who are still alive. People of the diaspora can learn much from the living elders of their communities whose physical presence is a testament of their ability to survive and endure” (113). Before she attends the Big Drum Ceremony, Avey begrudges contact with the elders of black communities because they enshrined the very elements of black culture that she sought to run away from in order to fit into the middle class, white American mainstream lifestyle. At the Beg Pardon, she finally comes to understand and respect the role they play in such a sacred space, a crucial step to opening herself up to the wisdom they hold. 

In fact, it is after the elders make intercession through the ritual that she can see someone who “seemed to be her great-aunt standing there beside her” (237). Like when Aunt Cuney used to take her to watch the Shouts performed in August, observing those “who still held to the old ways . . . slowly circling the room in a loose ring” (34), Avey watches the nation dances, her great-aunt spiritually with her on one side, Joseph Lebert with her on the other, explaining each dance they watch. Eventually, as is the nature of the circle dance, Avey must join in the performance. She spends time reflecting the open space they occupy begins to fill with dancers, expanding the longer the dancing goes on as more people join in the dance. The creole dances performed are a blend of many different African dance aesthetics that were shared across nations, meaning the space becomes more amenable to Avey’s participation. 

When Avey finally joins the circle of older people and performs the Carriacou Tramp, she is performing a circle dance, the Ring Shout. The dances hold considerable similarities. According to Edward Thorpe, the dance “had certain affinities with the competitive Juba and consisted of a dance performed ‘with the whole body—with hands, feet, belly and hips’. The dancers formed a ring and proceeded with a step that was half shuffle, half stamp, and much pelvic swaying” (30). All the types of movement included in the dance are familiar to Avey, who has a long history of using the aesthetics of black dance as she danced to jazz music. According to Hazzard-Donald, 

The shout ritual was the arena in which the motor muscle memory of African movement could be learned, sustained, relexified, and reborn eventually as secular dance forms. These forms would go on to become the famous African American dances that have circulated around the world; dances like the “Twist,” the “Black Bottom,” the “Pony” and, of course, the touch response partnering dance known as the “Lindy Hop” and all its various forms. (200) 

The evolution of the dance allows for Avey to both be part of an older tradition and to be part of a new cultural tradition in the US. Even though Avey had not ever participated in a Ring Shout, she embodied the Africanist aesthetic as she performed the various dances done to jazz music, the Lindy Hop holding the greatest importance with its circular motion in partnership with another person. She holds a sense of ephebism and aesthetic of the cool as she slowly integrates herself into the dance. The elders in the circle dance, rather than try to teach her or push her out of the circle, welcome her in to work through the process and discover how her style of dancing can meld with their rhythms. 

The moment offers a full realization of what it means to have African American heritage. Hazzard-Donald describes participation in the counterclockwise circle of the Ring Shout as engaging in “a ‘spirit-gate’ through which humans could connect to a higher spiritual reality” (203). That gate allows Avey access to what Hazzard-Donald calls “an intermediary religious form” which bridges the gap between traditional African religions and American religious forms (199). Barbara Frey Waxman discusses the importance of Avey’s dancing, because as 

Avey carefully follows the rule of not letting her feet lose contact with the ground, a rule which metaphorically implies the principle of maintaining contact with her ancestral soil, her people, and their traditions. That is why Marshall calls this dance “the shuffle designed to stay the course of history” (250)—designed to subvert the drift of historical events that have prevented African Americans and Afro-Caribbeans from maintaining contact with their ancestral cultures. (98)

The dance she performs allows her to connect with her ancestors and reverence both her great-aunt and her namesake, Avatara; the dance allows her to finish healing from the spiritual malady caused when she cut herself off from her cultural heritage; and the dance allows her the opportunity to reclaim her past and look forward to the future opportunities she has to share her cultural knowledge with her own grandchildren. Avey is transported to Tatem and back to her childhood, where “under the cover of the darkness she was performing the dance that wasn’t supposed to be dancing, in imitation of the old folk shuffling in a loose ring inside the church. And she was singing along with them under her breath. . . . she used to long to give her great-aunt the slip and join those across the road” (248). In joining in the circle dance at the Big Drum Ceremony, she symbolically returns to Tatem to perform the Ring Shout with the church members, participating in a ritual she had longed to perform as a child but could not. The spiritual return to Tatem melds African-American and Afro-Caribbean traditions as everyone celebrates their shared African heritage. 

It is this shared heritage on which Marshall ends her narrative, leaving readers to understand that the heritage Avey is to share is not purely African, but rather a rich mix of African and American heritage which make up her culture. Accepting the many influences of the diaspora is how to be self-fulfilled and a positive influence on continuation of cultural heritage. Doing so requires throwing out the linear, Western understandings of time and cultural evolution and replacing them with a circular understanding, which allows for the living and the dead to communicate shared wisdom and knowledge through generations as cultural tradition grows into new renditions and expressions of ancient values, which inspire new ways to deal with the present.  

Works Cited

Boelhower, William. “Ethnographic Politics: The Uses of Memory in Ethnic Fiction.” Memory and Cultural Politics: New Approaches to American Ethnic Literatures. Northeastern UP, 1996, pp. 19-40.

Bracks, Lean’tin L. Writings on Black Women of the Diaspora: History, Language, and Identity. Garland Publishing, Inc, 1998.

Garcia, David F. Listening for Africa: Freedom, Modernity, and the Logic of Black Music’s African Origins. Duke UP, 2017.

Hazzard-Donald, Katrina. “Hoodoo Religion and American Dance Traditions: Rethinking the Ring Shout.” The Journal of Pan African Studies, vol. 4, no. 6, 2011, pp. 194-212.1. 

Marshall, Paula. Praisesong for the Widow. Plume, 1983. 

Thorpe, Edward. Black Dance. The Overlook Press, 1990. 

Waxman, Barbara Frey. “Dancing out of Form, Dancing into Self: Genre and Metaphor in Marshall, Shange, and Walker.” MELUS, vol. 19, no. 3, 1994, pp. 91-106. www.jstor.org/stable/467874.

Lady A: Pacific NW Black Blues

By Nascha Jolie

Lady A Photo Credit Leo Gabriel

Lady A, aka Anita White and The Real Lady A, announces that she and the band formerly known as Lady Antebellum filed joint motions to dismiss the trademark infringement litigation pending in the U.S. District Courts for Tennessee and Washington.  The Parties have reached a confidential, mutually agreeable solution.

Lady A wants to thank all those that offered her encouragement, unconditional love, and support during this ordeal.  She is especially grateful for her Cooley LLP law team, Brendan Hughes, Joe Drayton, Judd Lauter, Jane van Benten, and Natalie Pike, her team at Bradley Arant Boult Cummings LLP led by Junaid Odubeko, and for her Seattle producer and friend, 

John Oliver III “who suggested seeking pro bono assistance from Cooley.”

Lady A appreciates their transparent communication, integrity, diligence, and tireless efforts.  Their pro bono representation assisted Lady A, an independent musical artist, in protecting her name, amplifying her voice, and bringing awareness to the long history of Black artists being treated unfairly by those in the music industry.

Lady A’s ninth CD and latest offering entitled, Satisfyin’ is scheduled for release on February 7th, 2022 coinciding with Black History Month, Lady A is continuing to send out messages of hope and inspiration.  Gio Pilato of Bluebird Reviews describes Lady A’s album as “… an eclectic, highly pleasing combo of Soul, Blues, Fusion, R&B and Funk that lifts your spirit throughout the whole duration of the record.”  Please note the album can only be found by typing in the title of the CD, Satisfyin’ – Lady A.

With this chapter ending, and a new year upon us, Lady A -- The Real Lady A -- is grateful and excited about new opportunities the next chapter will bring.  She looks forward to continuing to share her love of music and passion for music education through her involvement with the Rhapsody Project and Northwest Blues in the Schools.  Her goal is to continue to uplift others and help to create positive changes for all those with whom she is honored to work in music and in her community.  Always living by her motto:  Be Blessed and Be A Blessing.  

Black Lives, Names, Experiences, Work, Art – They All Matter.
PRESS RELEASE
STATEMENT FROM Lady A – The Real Lady A 

The article and Interview start here

I reach Lady A on a Wednesday afternoon in early February at her home in Seattle. Despite  an on-going pandemic, she has been busy performing locally, completing a brand new album which will be released at press time; and most recently settled a lawsuit that placed the Original Lady A on the front page of the news across the nation. But this bright sunny winter afternoon, Lady A is catching her breathing. She’s been busy working and performing gigs with her band all week now that the Seattle area has been recovering from recent snow storms. 

“I’ve been gigging all through, COVID, it’s been wonderful,” she says. After the first few weeks of lock down so she and her producer came up with the idea to do pop-up performances around their city.

“You know, it was nice those first couple of weeks..you know, you got to work at home, but then it was like people were starting to go a little stir crazy. We had been working on a new CD, and everything kind of stopped, you know. So we started doing what was called pop-up concerts…We would just pop up in neighborhoods around the community and perform.”

Lady A says that the local storefront owners and food vendors supported their efforts by allowing them to either use their property or to set up in front of them. Before the mask mandates, the patrons could sit outside six feet apart and enjoy Lady A and her music while patronizing the local businesses. It became a great way to connect with the city, unite people during difficult times and to support the local economy.

Photo Credit: Dawn Johnson

From there, Lady A says that people would hire her and the band to play in their backyard for small private concerts. “Yeah, they sort of hired us to play in their back yard, just for a few people because you know, you couldn’t have a bunch of people…So we play for like 10 or 20 people depending on how big your backyard is. And that was fun and went on for a while.

“Then we did a lot of virtual concerts. I was very blessed to be able to do a lot of virtual concerts. And so I appreciate it. It really did work for me and my band. We did a lot of free things, but it didn’t matter for us…we called them unpaid rehearsals…”

Lady A says that she performed with variations of her band as well as in a duo with her good friend and song-writing partner, Roz, who also sings background for Lady A. 

“I like to do different things within the music,” Lady A says.  This variety is evident in her musical journey which began at home and blossomed in the church, like most blues singers. 

Born Anita White, Lady A says that her roots are in Louisiana where her family migrated from, but she and her siblings were born and raised in the Columbia City and Beacon Hill neighborhoods in Seattle. She says that her family is musical where her parents and siblings sang and also played instruments. “My father was a drummer and so is my brother…you know we sing, but we don’t sing in church.” 

Lady A began performing in the children’s choir at the age of five. She didn’t do any solo gigs until well into adulthood, but she continued performing in choirs at church all through her youth. At the age of sixteen, she became a choir director of her youth choir. “Our instrumentalists at the time..quit on us and it was the church’s anniversary…and I just got up and said, you know, we can sing by ourselves. I got up and taught the parts…”

Lady A says she continued directing her choir and others for years and got used to having her back to the audience. It took a good friend and the big karaoke scene in the 1980s for her to get used to performing in front of a big crowd. “…I was scared to death because I was always used to not having to look at the audience,” she says. Once over her fear, Lady A joined a Motown Revue and began performing as a background vocalist before making her way to the front of the stage through the years.

By the nineties, Lady A began fronting her own bands. She had her own band, Lady A and the Baby Blues Funk Band and she was also singing with many others. At some point, she was performing with a different band almost every night of the week except Sunday.  These days, not much has changed, Lady A regularly performs and her band has evolved alongside her music. 

What is the vibe of your new album, Satisfyin’?

“The vibe on this record is, because as I said music evolves, the vibe is Seattle’s soulful blues. So, when I grew up, my mother and grandmother listened to the blues and gospel. So I’ve always put a gospel song on every single album I’ve done, right.

“This album is an ode to the music that I remember, it’s the vibe that I remember when I was coming up. I was young and I was listening to the blues and none of my friends could understand why, but I did. But it’s also the soulful side of the blues. It’s that funky blues meets Kool and the Gang vibe.

“I still like the blues, so my blues is funky. This CD will give you a vibe if you want to play it in your car and turn it up loud!” 

Who are your musical influences?

 “Kool & The Gang, Bobby Rush, Millie Jackson, Mahalia Jackson, Johnnie Taylor, Earth Wind & Fire, Stevie Wonder, Bobby “Blue” Bland and Aretha Franklin. 

“I love Aretha Franklin Sings the Blues album. That’s like my all time-favorite, besides her gospel stuff. She can really sing the blues. And Prince could sing the blues too, but you had to see him in concert.”

Where is your favorite place in Europe? What has been your most memorable concert or your favorite place to sing?

“Favorite location? That’s easy. I was so blessed to go on tour in my favorite place to go, Sweden. I’ve been to Sweden three times. I traveled to the Netherlands from there because it’s like going from Seattle to Portland. You can just get on a plane and hop over.

“I was doing a tour, the From The Soul Tour with the Top Dogs in Sweden..I was there for a month and it was during July which is also my birthday month. So, my birthday was right in the middle of this tour. I’ve played the Quantum Data Festival in the Netherlands. 

“Fran Case invited me to come to the Netherlands. And he said just get on a plane and..pop on over. I'm like Oh, okay. So I did and I spent my birthday in the Netherlands, with friends of his and he invited his entire family to come and watch me perform..It was beautiful. And then the band that I played with in the Netherlands, a couple of them came up and so we just played music and did that. I flew back to Sweden to finish the tour…That's my favorite memory of performing there.”

What is your contribution to the blues in terms of keeping the legacy alive? How do you feel about the history of the blues and sharing that legacy in and outside of your music?

“I work with Northwest Blues in the Schools right here in Seattle. And it's just started up again through the Rhapsody Project, Washington Society. 

“I am on the Board of Directors of the Rhapsody project, which is a music project for kids here in the Seattle area. I'm also a vocal coach and a mentor in that program. 

“I’m a culture bearer which means that I talk about race, I talk about appropriation. It's like history man. I talk about it all the time anyway, even when it's not black history. We’re in Black History Month, but right here that represents who we are. 

“Like history to me is about the shoulders that I stood on to get where I am, right? My ancestors my great grandmother, my great-great grandmother, my grandmother and my mother. They were important, are important people to me and my family.

“So I think that we have to remember that every decade or every generation has had to put up with something right? They help us get where we need to be. And sometimes we don't understand why they made the decisions that they did. Why they did what they did. 

“But as I've gotten older, I've started to realize why some of those things happen. And I think that that's what I try to teach the kids that I work with snap right. I know you think your parents are lame, I know you think you know better, but they really are trying to do the best they can for you with the best they had.

“I have emails that I send out all year long. I love our history, but let's not forget  [all parts of it]. We don't always have to talk about being slaves. Because we are no longer in the fields right now. We have progressed. We know we've progressed on our own right because we have to fight for everything that we had. So we don’t want to forge that, we want to celebrate our accomplishments.

“This year [in my diversity outreach], our theme is: Elevate and Celebrate, as we value our strengths. 

“In my community work, I want people to understand the legacy we come from and to know that we come from Kings and Queens.”

“So we don't want to forget that and we want to celebrate our accomplishments and so our theme this year is elevated and celebrate, as we value our strengths. So I constantly you know, I mean my community work, and I I want people to understand the legacy that we come from Kings and Queens.

How do you feel about the release of your new album? What do you plan to do to promote it? Are you doing more virtual concerts? Are you planning on touring during the Spring and Summer months?

“Oh, yeah, I already have some dates. You know festival dates in Europe, already. 

“I’m still going back to Sweden in April. The Blues Music Awards are coming up in Memphis, you know, so I’m going down to the Blues Foundation in Memphis. 

“But that's all according to what COVID does. Because I have an 85 year old mother that I still need to take care of. I have to be safe round. You know, I'm very cognizant of what's going on. You know, I'm vaccinated. I'm boosted and all that, but still, I'm taking still taking the precautions. Because I've been around my band. We keep each other safe. We all have families that we have to go back to.

“It's gonna take some time, but I think we'll come out of it. You know, I understand people want to get out and about how do I miss traveling, but I'm ready. I'm ready. 

“So I am looking forward to going on tour. And I'm still doing gigs.  I'm doing a video shoot this weekend for AARP. And people still ask me to do virtual shows which is good, right?”

What are you most excited about for 2022?

“My new CD, Satisfyin’. I'm so excited. We launched it in Europe first. It launched in Europe on October 22. 

“Oh, okay. Okay. So it's been out there and of course it gets leaked, you know, to the US so which is fine. But the so the DJs in in Europe have been playing it like crazy. And I am so grateful. And now the DJs here in the States are playing it because of course they've got it already through my publicist. 

“And I'm so excited about it coming out because I think people are going to enjoy the CD. 

“Every one of my CDs is a progression and growth. Okay. And when I'm doing absolutely it really is and I'm really like I still love my very first CD. I still love my very first CD blues in the key of me still love it to this day. Not saying I don't love the other ones, but I do but this one this particular one satisfying the last one I did I'm like Wow, is that me?”

What can listeners look forward to in this latest project? How have you progressed as an artist?

“I think I'm coming into my own on every CD that I'm doing and this one is going to be fun for the springtime when it comes out. 

Did you write any of the songs on this album?

“Yes, I wrote a good portion of it. I have. I've written like about five or six songs. I’ve co-written with my Seattle producer and play brother, John Oliver the Third. He's written some and I’ve co-written with my backgrounds there.”

Have you always written your own songs?

“On my first album, Bluez in the Key of Me, I wrote two songs on there. Back then, I think that I didn’t believe that I was a good writer. On my second album, How Did I Get Here, I wrote three songs on there, and John Oliver and the Third Group did the rest of them. But ever since those albums, I’ve been writing.

“Because when people write for you, you have to really feel that connection to what you’e saying on the song. When other people write for you, it’s great. It can be a great song, right? But if you don't identify with it, or if you don't feel it, it's really hard to sing it. I mean, it's great to sing other people’s songs but I really do enjoy writing my own songs.”

Are you glad that the legal matter is now over? What were the terms of your settlement? Are you still Lady A? Can you keep your stage name?

“I’m happy, I’m pleased with the outcome. Yes, I’m still Lady A. I can still use the name.

“I can’t speak about [the settlement] now, however, I have released a press statement. If you would print the statement in full, I would be so pleased. Other publications did not…”