Writing and Recording a Protest Song

Yesterday was the last day of my seminary class that studied protest music, which meant my song was due.  On Monday, I finished writing it.  I had lots of ideas and lines and verses, but on Monday, I made final decisions.  I'll post the lyrics below.

I did change the song through several revisions. I decided to keep the focus on one person's experience, instead of trying to cover people working in heat, people losing their possessions to fires, and all the other ways climate change wreaks havoc. I decided that one of the verses I created made a better refrain. It was fun, looking at all the possibilities, choosing what made the song stronger.

We had to present them in class.  We could perform live or have a recorded version to play.  I have some musician friends in town for Music Week, so I had a vision of having them accompany with my song that uses the tune of "Poor Wayfaring Stranger."  I didn't think it would work for them to be with me live for class--that would have meant that they would have to miss worship, so I decided to record.

We did a few practice rounds and came up with a plan. One of our houseguests, my Florida pastor, was the videographer.  We did one recording outside, but decided there was too much traffic background noise.  We came inside and got settled into a new location, with the musicians seated in chairs.  That recording ended in laughter when my spouse knocked his violin bow to the floor.

The next take was the one that I posted to my YouTube account.  You can view it here.

I was surprisingly pleased with my voice.  Sure, there are a few notes I flubbed, but I am sure that we could have recorded 20 attempts and that would still be the case, although the note would vary each time.    It's hard to know when to keep trying for a better version, when to say, "Well, this is probably as good as it's going to get." I suppose as with writing, there comes a moment when one says, "Well, if I had 2 more weeks, it might improve, but this is the final draft right now."

I expected to feel insecure about my voice, but my voice was better than I expected.  I was distressed about how heavy I looked (because I am in a heavy phase of my life right now), but I knew I couldn't lose 50 pounds in time for the recording.  I don't really have clothes that disguise my weight, if such clothes exist.  I may say more about weight in a later post, but for now, let me focus on the fact that I sang well, that my support network pitched in and made this project a joy.

And let me also remember how cool it was to present our projects to class.  We're a class of seminarians, and most of us aren't musicians, so there wasn't that kind of pressure.  Our teacher had already told us that we'd be graded on our effort, not on achieving a standard of perfection, so we were able to take risks--singing this way was risky-feeling for most of us, based on what we said in our first night introductions.

Last night, we presented our work and supported each other.  We had a variety of approaches.  One woman used a hymn as her base, and one woman used "Grand Old Flag."  Some of our protest music was mournful, some angry, and some tried to invoke hope--all of them were inspiring.  Some of us sang, while others chanted or did more of a spoken word approach (which was consistent with the songs we studied).

It was a great way to learn about what it takes to write a protest song, and I'm glad I went with that approach (we did have an option to write a short, analytical essay).  I have enjoyed the class, and I'm happy that I took it; it's hard to believe it's over, but such is the nature of summer classes.

The lyrics:

Higher Ground

Sung to the tune of “Poor Wayfaring Stranger”

Verse 1:

I am a poor, wayfaring stranger

Sleeping in each national park

And yet I am no forest ranger

I have no home, I need an ark.

Refrain:

Clouds of doom / are hanging o’er us

We know that time is running out

There is no longer a safe shelter

Of this hard truth, there is no doubt.

Verse 2:

I have no home, because it flooded.

I have no car, because it drowned

I am now headed out for safety

I need to go to higher ground.

Refrain:

Clouds of doom / are hanging o’er us

We know that time is running out

There is no longer a safe shelter

Of this hard truth, there is no doubt.

Verse 3:

I’m hoping for a mountain cabin,

A place that’s far away from sea.

The mountains are so much colder

But it’s a safer place to be.

Refrain:

Clouds of doom / are hanging o’er us

We know that time is running out

There is no longer a safe shelter

Of this hard truth, there is no doubt.