The Song I Sang To Sun Ra
As many of you know, I did a long story for the (now defunct) Philadelphia Inquirer Sunday Magazine in September, 1988. It was, in a way, my baptism by fire in terms of writing about ‘jazz’ artists. For one thing, this story predated the Internet and computers! I had an electronic typewriter. But the central item was that the story was a feature on Sun Ra, who was living in Philadelphia at the time, in a home owned by Marsh Allen’s family in Germantown (where I was born). The Sun Ra piece, “The Brother From Another Planet” has its own long backstory, but here is an anecdote that made me realize that all genre of music share something deep and central. You might think there would be a great chasm between reggae and Sun Ra’s music. Think again.
I had heard Dennis Brown perform several times in Philly. He had a beautiful voice. I had some of his records, and I played them again and again. One day when I was talking to Sun Ra, I had to let him know, and respond to, a claim that a deceased Arkestra member’s wife had made when I interviewed her. It was a wholly negative statement. But I couldn’t run with it without giving Sun Ra the right to reply. On this occasion, Sun Ra went off on a tear. I understood his central claim (without knowing if it was true), but I also understood that I couldn’t let him rant endlessly. My initial telephone conversation with him (I looked him up in the White Pages!) had lasted for three hours. Three hours! (And when I visited him the first time, he took a break in the rehearsal, indulged his theories and bemoaned his slights for well over an hour. ) Ra had been railing at length when I decided to break in. Don’t ask me what inspired me to use the approach I chose. “Sun Ra, you seem to be having a bad day,” I said. “It makes me think of a song.” And I started singing, “Blood, Sweat and Tears” by Dennis Brown, which begins:
“I woke up this mornin’/with no bread on my table.” I sang through several verses of the song, and then stopped. Ra had been very quiet the whole time. When he spoke, his tone had changed. “You’re pretty good,” he said. “I should put you in the band!” We concluded our conversation on a peaceful note. The healing power of music never ceases to amaze me. Here’s the song, sung much better by Dennis Brown!
Karen Bennett Copyright 1988, 2023
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