Have you ever noticed the words “commissioned by” or “in honor of” at the top of a song or other musical composition? My own choir has actually commissioned several works over its history. I wrote this piece about a new one, and our relationship to both the commissioner and the commissionee was pretty special.
“What I Did for Love” isn’t a love song, if by that you mean a song about romantic love. It is, however, a song about passion, in this case a passion for dancing. This selection is taken from the enormously popular musical A Chorus Line, which ran for over 6,000 performances in its initial run on Broadway starting in 1975
Sometimes I start researching these posts thinking that I know what’s what and I just need to fill in a few blanks, only find out that my ideas have been completely wrongheaded. Other times I think there’s not too much to say and end up with enough material for a doctoral dissertation. This post fulfills both conditions. Racism and the transformative power of art are all packed into this one short selection.
And the answer is: nobody. That line isn’t in the movie. We get the full scoop from the website The Phrase Finder:
This is well-known as one of the most widely misquoted lines from films. The actual line in the film is ‘Play it, Sam’. Something approaching ‘Play it again, Sam’ is first said in the film by Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman) in an exchange with the piano player ‘Sam’ (Dooley Wilson):
Spoiler alert: You’re not going to get a definitive answer to this question. You may be more confused than ever! I know I am. There seem to be dozens of versions of this and similar spirituals. We are singing something close to the one that Carl Sandburg published in his 1927 American Songbag..
Here are just some of the variants of our first verse:
“Mary” is sometimes “Sister Mary” or “Sis Mary”
“Three links of chain” is sometimes “three silver chain[s]”
“Every link bearin’ Jesus’ name” is sometimes “bearin’ freedom’s name” or “each chain bore the Savior’s name”
“Matthew Mark and Luke and John” is sometimes “Gabriel stood and blowed his horn” or “You better let God’s chillun alone.”
Yes indeed. Surprising, no? You’d think it was just some kind of nonsense song.
But before we get to the story told by the lyrics, a word about the fabulous Andrews Sisters who performed the original song in the 1941 Abbott and Costello movie Buck Privates. They really were sisters, with the original last name of “Andreos.” Their career started in the 1920’s, with their first big hit in 1937 when Patty, the youngest and the lead, was 19, having been seven when the act started. Radio success and record sales led to their being offered a movie contract by Universal Pictures, and they ended up appearing in three movies with Abbott and Costello.
Since when did rocks cry out? Where on earth did this idea even come from? Straight from the Bible, that’s where. This piece is in the tradition of a true spiritual but has a known author, Hall Johnson. I had a hard time nailing down whether or not Johnson actually wrote the song or simply arranged it, but I managed to come across this clear statement: “’Ain’t Got Time to Die’ is an original Spiritual with words and music by Hall Johnson.” (“The Hall Johnson Concert Spirituals“) Let me quote Mr. Johnson himself on the subject of this music:
True enough, this music was transmitted to us through humble channels, but its source is that of all great art everywhere—the unquenchable, divinely human longing for a perfect realization of life. It traverses every shade of emotion without spilling over in any direction. Its most tragic utterances are without pessimism, and its lightest, brightest moments have nothing to do with frivolity. In its darkest expressions there is always a hope, and in its gayest measures a constant reminder. Born out of the heart-cries of a captive people who still did not forget how to laugh, this music covers an amazing range of mood. Nevertheless, it is always serious music and should be performed seriously, in the spirit of its original conception. (Wikipedia)
Of all the spirituals I’ve sung with my own choir, this one, with its slow pace and minor key, conveys the feelings of an oppressed people the most strongly. It’s not just a series of complaints or calls for help, though. There’s a lot of scriptural truth packed into it.
Let me start out with the meaning of “rock.” As in “Elijah Rock,” the overall reference is to God, but this song spells out a couple of specific ones. God is “a rock in a weary land.” You might think that the word “weary” was put there by the slaves who sang it, but it’s straight from the book of Isaiah in the old King James Version: “The shadow of a rock in a weary land.” Other translations substitute the word “desert” or “parched” for “weary.” So the original meaning probably doesn’t have anything to do with actual physical weariness, but that aspect must have appealed to people whose lives were one great stretch of it. The idea of shade and rest is implicit in the text, as is that of protection: “a shelter in the time of storm” is also from Isaiah. It’s not at all uncommon, by the way, for us to say, “He’s my rock” to refer to a person in our lives who keeps us on track and is always dependable
Well! The spiritual “Ezekiel Saw De Wheel” is a pretty strange song. Have you ever wondered what on earth it means, or have you just sung it, or listened to it, and enjoyed the rhythm and tune?
If you take a look at the first chapter of the book of Ezekiel in the Jewish Bible/Old Testament you’ll find the source for the images of this spiritual. Ezekiel, we are told, is writing during the Jewish exile in Babylon, which occurred after Nebuchadnezzar conquered Jerusalem in about 595 BC. He was a contemporary of both Daniel and Jeremiah, and his book is full of visions and prophecies which are pretty strange and hard to understand, it must be admitted. But Ezekiel himself tells us that he’s simply reporting what God showed him: