I'm a professional musician. Like most of my colleagues, I make my living by pursuing multiple gigs: I conduct four choirs in a suburban Detroit mainline church, plus a community choir in what locals refer to as the "downriver" area. I compose music, some of which gets recorded. I write articles and columns.
And I teach music theory and composition to undergraduates at Wayne State University, the only one of Michigan's "Research I" universities actually located in a major urban setting. My building is just a few short blocks from Cass Avenue, one of the prime locations of the 1967 riots that shook Detroit to its foundations.
Perhaps half of my students are classical musicians. The rest are jazz studies majors. Want to know what I assigned all of them to do tomorrow, when the University is closed for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day? Join me below the fold to find out.
I have them listen to a song that begins with these unforgettably chilling lyrics:
Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
You can listen to it here, as performed by the legendary Billie Holiday, who began singing it at the end of her concert and nightclub gigs in 1939.
Much has been written about this song, its origin, and its impact, so I will simply observe that David Margolick's essay in the New York Times is one of the best places to begin; a link to his article can be found here.
Just before dismissing them on Friday, and right after giving them this assignment, I told my students, "Our job is to do more than entertain or distract. Our job is to tell the truth."
I wonder what our discussion will be like when classes resume.