It doesn't matter where you live, the women gather
Tears that fill a million oceans

The five members of Sweet Honey In the Rock sing Afro-American based a capella songs with social justice-based themes. A sixth member interprets the songs, if not the sound effects, for the deaf. They've been around since 1973 -- this performance was the kick-off of their 30th Anniversary Tour. I remember them from the days when I listened to KUNI in Cedar Falls and Garrison Keillor's radio show in the Twin Cities. Later, I played some of their songs on my own radio show in Texas. But I've moved on to other musical realities and don't know their current work well. They, on the other hand, have moved on to a Grammy. Fortunately, the way opened for me to see them live in downtown Portland and our paths again crossed.

The route from the Portland State parking ramp to Schnitzer is as stunning and dichotomous as Portland itself. Descending through the South Park Squares, the boulevard is lined with upscale apartments, cafes, historic churches and museums. But in the drizzly evening, the vast army of Rose City homeless lines the street as well. Men sleep wrapped in grey blankets in grey doorways. Teenagers squat under roof overhangs, spreading catsup on hamburgers. You can throw charity quarters out here like rice at a wedding.

The historic Arlene Schnitzer is a fairly big place. If a classy act is coming to Portland, they perform in the Schnitzer. Since most of the real concerts I go to are on the order of Napalm Death, I'd only been here once, to see the Gypsy Caravan, and I felt it could have been a much friendlier experience, despite the bric-a-brac decor. Now, having not been frisked at the door for weapons, I was poised for another isolating show experienced with artsy types. I leaned against the front of the stage, surveying the crowd in the orchestra section...the people in the balcony looked more like ants. There were almost no children. Most of the audience consisted of old hippies and middle-aged white professional-looking women. The two women seated next to me, one black and one white, were holding hands. Wow!

Thirty seconds into the show I realized how wrong I was. Brilliantly artsy and aesthetic, surely, but hardly isolating! There was an excitement in the audience from the very beginning. Dressed in beautiful multicolored shirts, Sweet Honey opened with "The Women Gather," quoted above, particularly effective because we all know that life, and our children, can unexpectedly take a wrong turn. "We believe in freedom..." they sang. "Breaths" followed, a good match. It is a soothingly textured song, like lapping water, like shifting sand, one good for headaches. Sweet Honey used moving hands and a rainstick to fortify the effects.

The flow of the song selections too was like waves, with peaks of activity and quiet troughs. On the upswell, Sweet Honey began to insert the familiar "traditional" songs, for me the guideposts of the concert. Carol Lynn Maillard led with a killer blues voice on "Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child," done call-and-response style. Following a few words by a Senegalese poet, the women then sang "Down By the Riverside/Ain't Gonna Study War No More" People stood up to cheer and clap. Then Sweet Honey Founder Extraordinaire Bernice Reagon shouted:

"You can say, 'I DO NOT CONSENT'"

What times these are, when everyone knows what consent that is! The audience, row by row, joined hands and swayed to the music. The black lesbian beside me grabbed mine and smiled. That's something that wouldn't have been possible in my childhood in Alabama. Indeed we have made a little progress!

The next song was African, a prayer for having a child, but it was also announced as a "prayer to the big people around the world." It was a percussive song against weapons and the mindset of violence. Reagon again launched a speech, this time specifically against President Bush, stepping on affirmative action with one foot and with the other one in his mouth, preaching at a black church on Martin Luther King weekend. The speech led into "This Little Light Of Mine," done gospel style. The audience again stood and clapped enthusiastically in time.

"WE SHALL NOT BE MOVED!" yelled Reagon. WOW!

Then she took the solo on "Ballad Of Harry T. Moore." The song is from a Langston Hughes poem, and is about a Florida voter registration worker from the NAACP who was murdered half a century ago. The background vocals to the song are similar to those of a black gospel quartet. It is amazing how low women can sing!

With "Let Us Rise In Love," the music slid into a sinuous, tropico-tangolike trough. The song was written as a response to 9/11 and asks how we can make our world safe, while floating in that calm sea of delicate vocals and shaker percussion. It was followed by an "encore" gospel hymn about Canaan sung by Alisha Kahlil. I wrote down, "The girl can belt it out!"

Following a second encore...was it gospel or old English?...and a standing ovation, I began to wander around Arlene Schnitzer. The balcony also began to disgorge its guests. "Wow! So that's where the younger and less 'professional' people are sitting!" My microcosmic demographic theories readjusted. I walked up two flights of steps, and looked DOWN at the stage. The performers must have seemed very tiny at this location, but no doubt the sound was equally perfect. Then I walked back down and bought a glass of champagne, chugged it down, and reeled dizzily back into the front section of the orchestra. Intermission was to change my view of the performance.

Meanwhile, Sweet Honey had changed clothes and now wore bright outfits along the lines of the Punjab. They began the second shift with a song from the Central African rain forest where people believe the environment is god. An exhilarating experience...especially with the champagne...the singers split into groups, their voices like waves on the ocean. "My mother walked her troubles," they sang, followed by "No More Auction Block For Me," a slow (and weird!) version with heavy bass, vocal somersaults, and claps from the audience. Aisha Cahill followed on lead with a wordless song, as if she were a bird accompanied by springs and plumbing plungers. Though the dynamic political content had so far dropped dramatically in the second half, Sweet Honey continued to deliver faultlessly and the audience kept up its fervor, with many standing up and clapping. I, on the other hand, had begun to doze from the champagne. The newness had worn off and I kept hoping Fanfare Ciocarlia would appear in the aisles and yell "Tsigane!" Fortunately the rest of the audience seemed to be more dedicated fans with better attention spans, and hence kept up their level of excitement and involvement.

Carol Maillard led a song about "we are our grandmothers' prayers," followed by a "Strangers Blues" song, this more brutally bluesy, and emotionally and actively sung by...it was either Cahill or Ysaye Barnwell. "Will You Harbor Me?" asked that question from the point of view of various underclass and alternative groups. I was awake by now, and was coming up with perky ideas. We were in an auditorium where ability to see depended on ability to pay, starting at $37.70 for a less than perfect view, and the audience was split into socio-economic classes. There were empty seats in this opulent palace of a building, while transients huddled in the frigid Northwestern night along the South Park. Maybe we could rise up en masse and offer to harbor them awhile, buy them a pretzel and a Full Sail. Maybe I could go do that, eh, but I didn't budge. The song received an accolade from the orchestra section, but they didn't go out and find any schizophrenics to harbor either.

"What can one person do with 2000 pairs of shoes?" Sweet Honey asked, recalling the image of Imelda Marcos. The concert began to wind down with "In This Land." Bernice Reagon introduced the singers, always helpful but not timely enough for my notes, and even after this I couldn't get the spellings right. But for most people, the names were either already known or not important...it was the performance that counted. Then Carol Maillard led the last song, "In the Upper Room," a heavy gospel item. The arrangements were often like men's groups' arrangements and the audience was very delighted to hear Ysaye Barnwell's full rich bass! Her part was countered by treble from Nitanju Casel. The encore was "Movin' On."

I don't think I have ever been at a musical performance that was technically and artistically any better. Sweet Honey integrates their Afro Roots and our contemporary society and politics so well as smoother and only slightly more abstract art. It is so effortlessly intricate, so well done. They use lighting, colors, their bodies, percussion and of course their voices so wonderfully. Their socio-political messages come across so strongly, but seem to ride easily with the tunes and arrangements. They can create sound and light environments in dreamy, real fantasy time and space. Like a shape note leader dressed in her Sunday best, they easily spread the passion of their world out to their audience despite their poise and grace. Would I go back to Schnitzer and see them again? Probably not...I missed being frisked at the door! But I would heartily recommend them to American music enthusiasts!