CHRIS OLEDUDE
Q What inspired you to focus so strongly on social justice and moral responsibility in the lyrics of Preacher Man – Vol. 1?
I am the son of two parents who were on the far-left side of the political spectrum and whothemselves represented a new type of world, due to their different racial backgrounds. My white-Northerner-Atheistic/Jewish mother was all radical fire and brimstone, and my Black-Southerner-Atheistic/Baptist father was quiet and purposeful in his pursuit of institutional changes. They met in Atlanta, the heart of America’s South, in the early 1950s, got married in 1956 and went on to produce three boys – each imbued with a passionate distaste for injustice and inequality. I am proud of each of them in different ways; my brothers and I established memorial websites for each of them. https://www.rememberthemajor.com/ https://www.ethelwerfelowens.net/
Q Were there particular life experiences or historical events that directly inspired the imagery and themes in Preacher Man – Vol. 1?
As a child, I participated in many protest marches and other activities regarding The Vietnam War and the Civil Rights Movement. My parents were active and my brothers and I were included in their community work. As an “interracial” or “mixed-race” child, my perspectives on current events and social situations were different than those of my friends. I witnessed my mother being verbally assaulted by a racist school crossing-guard in a white Brooklyn neighborhood. The woman also referred to my brothers and me as “nigger kids”. My father was Black. At the same time, my brothers and I witnessed some of our Black neighbors expressing prejudices against Jews. Our mother was Jewish.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was buried on my 9th birthday. That was an incredibly and dramatically sad day for me. I watched the entire funeral; I cried and I wasn’t even sure why. But it was not the last time I cried due to a manmade catastrophe.
My father was a public servant, including many years as an elected official fighting for underserved communities and victims of systemic discrimination and oppression. He was a role model for my brothers and me, as was my mother.
And during my formative years, we were surrounded by music describing, demanding and celebrating social change. We were raised on Pete Seeger, Paul Robeson and Josh White, as well as the rebellious Ludwig van Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. We loved to sing The Temptations’ “Ball Of Confusion” and Sly Stone’s “Every Day People”, as well as Nina Simone’s “Young, Gifted And Black”, the Beatles’ “All You Need Is Love”, music from HAIR and JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR, the Jackson 5 declaring “you better make a way for the young folks!” and Stevie Wonder singing “Living For The City”. Each of us studied musical instruments, including African drums at Olatunji’s school in Harlem. And we went to see Alvin Ailey’s dancers every year. Change was in the air — and we were breathing that air.
Years later, as an adult, I participated in many protests and community organizing efforts. I worked in politics and in government as well as with non-profit organizations across many fields and experienced many challenges that educated me about people and the way we respond to our environments.
The most significant personal experience, however, was the death of my wife, Sandra, from cancer. The impact of that event, along with the ripple effects for my two sons, is unmatched by anything else that I have experienced thus far in life. The two-year duration of her illness was tortuous. Whether it be parent, spouse, child, or friend, losing someone close to you is the most painful of pains.
All of my life influences my music.
Q How did your personal experiences shape the recurring themes of hope and resilience throughout the album?
First, I am a Black man in America. Regardless of any class or other privilege, my identity has been a source of strength throughout my life – even when I did not fully understand it. Second, I am the product of a Jewish heritage. My mother reminded my brothers and me that America saw us as Black, but she also reminded us through our annual Passover celebrations that the ability to keep hope alive was critical. Third, I endured a public and painful divorce fight between my parents, but I watched each of them emerge more true to themselves as a result. Fourth, I experienced the demise of my wife of 28 years as a result of cancer, witnessing her courage and fortitude, and then having to pick up the pieces and keep myself moving forward as well my two sons.
Q Can you talk about the decision to open the album with “Freedom Prayer” and how it sets the tone for the rest of the songs?
As someone raised on folk music, I thought it fitting to start my album with an homage to a “Negro” spiritual, “Oh, Freedom”, that is a declaration of independence by every oppressed individual. In the true folk tradition, however, I took the melody and added my own lyrical approach. And I wanted the musical arc of the album to start with a simple melody and the voices of humans and nature. I believe that the listener’s ability to take in everything that follows on the album is profoundly influenced by this opening.
Q In “Rainbow Soul,” you use the rainbow as a metaphor for diversity and unity. How did that image come to mind for you?
I give credit first to the political movement led by Rev. Jesse Jackson, Sr. His 1984 and 1988 candidacies for President of the United States were built on what was called the “Rainbow Coaltion.” The original version of this song was written in 1984 to celebrate that first effort. The Civil Rights Movement was always about the elevation of everyone in America – not just people of African descent – and the protection of all of our humanity and rights. That reality has been grossly distorted by the right-wing operators in our nation. It also made perfect sense for the LGBTQIA movement to utilize the rainbow as an inspirational symbol. I am quite happy, therefore, that RAINBOW SOUL continues to expand its relevance as a song.
Q Your lyrics often blend activism with empathy. How do you balance moral urgency with compassion in your songwriting?
I do not consider myself a great songwriter by any means. What I have picked up from my folk and classical musical upbringing is that words have power, but so does music. If my lyrics are painting one picture, that does not mean that the music cannot still paint another. Since it is natural for frustration and even anger to fuel change movements, it is very important that there always be some sort of reminder to each of us that pursuing a better world may be noble, but hurting people during that pursuit should never be a goal or even an acceptable tactic – even if it happens for reasons beyond our control. We must all put ourselves in the shoes of those we oppose or struggle with – particularly when they often share the same concerns about the world that we do, but have been misled by manipulators.
Q In “New World,” you speak about ending violence and fostering care globally. How do you approach writing about such large, complex issues without losing the emotional impact?
There is no easy way to write about complex issues of any kind without breaking things down tosmaller and less complex pieces. I am still learning how to tell a story with my lyrics to illustrate the messages in a song. It is really not easy when there is pressure to keep a good beat in the song, for example, so listeners don’t get bored, or the stories take many verses to tell (like the ancient folk tunes in many societies) and there is again pressure to provide musical variety. I believe that my lyric-writing is evolving and my ability to blend lyrics with the musical foundation is also improving. I still prefer, however, to work with someone else’s lyrics rather than wrestle with my own.
I also find that allowing myself to simply sit with a set of relevant words or phrases helps me to derive an appropriate rhythmic framework for the songs. Good songs embrace the rhythm of their words. Then the songwriter has to decide how to make that rhythm work for the audiences – singers, listeners, dancers or all of the above.
Q “Turning Tables” draws on biblical parables to address modern labor issues. How do spiritual themes influence your social commentary?
The Bible is one of the world’s greatest collection of stories – stories that were born from the struggle between humanity and divinity. Furthermore, The Bible has been incorporated into many aspects of American life and the lives of Western European nations, in particular, who shaped the United States’ evolution. And the book speaks plainly to many people during their lives. It makes sense to use The Bible as a source of inspiration for songs, whether or not the specific story or phrase ends up being used in the song. The beloved Pete Seeger created an incredible song, “Turn! Turn! Turn!” rooted in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 from the King James version of The Bible.
If we look closely, I doubt we will find that there is any real separation between social commentary and spiritual themes. Being raised without a strong religious background, it was harder for me to quickly tap into these connections. As an older person now, however, I find it easier to draw upon what I have witnessed during my life when thinking about a song – and I find that spiritual references are usually baked in.
Q In “No Crowns for Clowns,” the lyrics are very direct in their critique of political corruption. Was it difficult to write such pointed social commentary in song form?
Not at all. The spoken-word mode lends itself to such direct language, and I was inspired at a young age by the masterful Gil Scott-Heron. In this case, I also heard in my head the opening line of poet William Blake’s work, “The Tyger”, and I could not shake it.
Q How does your collaboration with other artists, like Lindsey Wilson and Elijah Dixon Owens, influence the lyrical content of your songs?
Lindsey and my son, Elijah, were guest vocalists. I don’t know if I would use the phrase “collaborator.” With vocalists and instrumentalists, I try to communicate what I am looking for from their performance and then I try and step back and allow them to paint their own canvas, so to speak.
On the other hand, Dr. Lora-Ellen McKinney wrote all of the lyrics for TURNING TABLES and turned to me as a collaborator to provide the melody and, most importantly, the arrangement. When I read her lyrics, I knew I wanted to write the song, but my work with her was a true collaborative effort – and I enjoyed it. I am happy and proud to say that Lora-Ellen seems pretty happy with the outcome!
Q “If a Woman Had Made the World” imagines a different societal structure. What motivated you to explore gendered perspectives through lyrics?
This song was originally dedicated to my mother and then the dedication was expanded to include my late wife. My mother, who was a Humanities teacher (art, literature, music), believed that one should never accept the foundations of an argument if you don’t support them. Her position was that one’s own deductive logic can lead to terrible outcomes if you accept a flawed premise. That is why she did not like the philosopher Aristotle or politics. For my mother, the real challenge is to have a good premise can lead to good conclusions. For example, if we accept the premise that there is probably not enough food for everyone, then we accept the logical conclusion that starvation is an acceptable reality. On the other hand, if we accept the premise that there is enough food for everyone, then we accept the logical conclusion that it’s our job to ensure that no one starves.
In this case, why should I accept as fact the premise that men “made the world” just because so much of written history focuses on men and their lives? Did men really create the world? And, if so, did they do a good job with it? And, by asking these questions, how can I know that women did not really make the world, but not in as visible a way – for better or worse? Finally, in my more recent years, I have been exposed to discussions about the earliest societies on this planet; societies that revered “the divine feminine” and were undermined by men. Societies where the Darwinian premises regarding “the fittest” were not originally dominant, but which may have eventually succumbed to Darwinian outcomes regardless. (After all, even in North America, the indigenous “Native Americans” had a very different relationship with each other and with the planet than those who eventually conquered them.)
So, overall, this is a “food for thought” song where the gender lens is utilized because my mother made that possible. (I guess I could have also written “If A Black Person Had Made The World”but that doesn’t flow as well musically.)
Q How do personal and intimate themes, like those in “Orange-Blues,” fit into the broader social and ethical concerns of the album?
ORANGE BLUES is a song full of games and one theme: I need love to sustain my capacity to deal with the world – in this case the insanity created and perpetuated by Donald Trump. The singer is celebrating his (or her) impending sexual release from the negative realities using an old tender folk song as a reference point but launching into the raunchy right from the start. The song was written to bring a hyper-visual aspect to the lyrics and the desperate drive for sexual release. Why? Because sometimes we have just had enough and can’t take it anymore for whatever reason, and we need a total “re-set” or “re-charge” which can only be fully accomplished through close contact with another human being (or maybe more than one?)
PREACHER MAN – VOL. 1 is about warnings and choices. We have to choose to care for ourselves so we can stay strong in the struggle against various forms of oppression. After all, you put the oxygen mask on your face first, before you attend to others. The struggles for economic equality and political freedoms are marathons – basically eternal – and it is easy to immerse yourself in the struggle and be consumed. Whether you are burnt up or burnt out, you can’t be an effective ally if you don’t acknowledge what YOU need to keep going in a sensible way.
Q The theme of choice is central in “The Choice.” How do you see the concept of personal responsibility connecting to global and societal issues in your lyrics?
Personal responsibility is everything. Each of us crafts values and priorities based upon a host of factors. We make choices every day that we must live with. Unfortunately, one reason why we have wars, for example, is that we choose to delegate the most difficult decisions about life and death to others. We don’t want that personal responsibility, that psychological and heavenly accountability. The phrase “It’s not personal; it’s just business” is bullshit deflection – total avoidance. Yet, we do want to hold others responsible for their choices.
My lyrics are full of the turmoil emerging from personal and less personal choices.
Q In songs like “We Will Get Through This,” you emphasize relational support. How important is the role of human connection in your lyrics?
As I have indicated before, human connection is everything and I believe my songs often reflect that. If I can’t feel love for myself, then how can I feel love for you? If I can’t feel love for you, then how can I love my community, however that is defined? If I can’t love my community, then what is my purpose in life? To love does not simply mean to need or to admire. Love is an appreciation of someone or something, which means you recognize that person or item is adding something special to the world. If that addition “completes” you personally, then there may be a romantic element of your love. You don’t need to be romantic to love someone, however, and that’s why connecting is so important. Our appreciation of each other increases when we connect. Our ability to see and hear each other is optimized when we connect. Our ability to pursue better socio-political outcomes increases when we connect. This is one reason why music, with or without lyrics, is so valuable. Music creates an automatic connection that defies space and time and makes loving each other much more possible.
Q Violence, war, and their impact on children are addressed in “Save the Children.” What challenges did you face writing about such intense topics?
An author must decide which tools to use to reach his/her/their audience. Alternatively, an author must decide which tools most accurately reflect what he/she/they is trying to say, regardless of the audience. Those tools may not always work together, which is where a set of creative choices are made.
When I first wrote “Save The Children”, for example, it was 1983 and my socio-political backdrop was protests against Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, terrorism in the Middle East that I did not fully understand, the coup against Salvador Allende in Chile, the struggle in South Africa, college readings about various forms of oppression, and the music of the ‘60s and ‘70s. The words easily emerged from this warehouse of naïve politics, real politics, musical inspirations, contemporary poets known as lyricists, and academia. The rhythm was a galloping 12/8 and I had “cool” sound effects to heighten the experience. I was earnest, yet, I did not fully “feel” the content.
But I have not been that 24 year-old for some time. I have been living life, including marriage and raising kids, fighting community battles, sharing the sadness of lost loved ones with family and friends. Now, I wipe away tears when I watch sad movies. Now, I better understand how horrific various forms of oppression can be and how much we can avoid and mitigate these horrors. So, whatever I write about violence during this stage of my life, I write with a much deeper anger and greater sense of urgency than when I was 24.
Q Your lyrics frequently address both moral philosophy and practical action. How do you weave these two aspects together effectively?
Again, it comes down to the choices we make as individuals, and those choices are rooted in the moral and ethical foundations of our upbringing. That can work both for and against an inclusive and love-centered society, but therein lies the tensions – the “culture wars” – that we have been experiencing since the dawn of the Civil Rights Movement, in particular. If you believe that all human beings – all of God’s children – are equal and deserving of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, then you can and will approach the philosophical conflicts with a shared understanding that there are practical – not always ideal – solutions to most problems. This is where my head is.
Q In “I Hate Hate,” you explore confronting violence with love. How do you translate such abstract moral principles into lyrical form?
I consider myself much more of a composer than a lyricist. I often find myself uncertain as to how I will express my principles through lyrics without sounding derivative or simply boring. Storytelling is an excellent way to overcome this uncertainty, and I have had my struggles as a storyteller because I do not consider myself to be a folk or country singer. But I keep trying. And, as I have stated elsewhere, the magic is in the rhythm of the words. That rhythm can provide the melodic foundation of a chorus or verse, the foundation for a guitar or horn riff, or even a key bass part. When the principles start sounding too heavy, I rely on the rhythm to make the points I am seeking to make, because I do not hear myself writing material for a progressive rock band like YES, KANSAS or RUSH. Of course, that could change in five years …
Q Across the album, you blend spiritual, political, and emotional themes. How do you ensure that these diverse strands form a cohesive lyrical narrative?
I have written many songs. Selecting the songs for this particular album, being my first, was very hard. The order of songs was critical and I debated this with myself and had some important input from a good friend.
I decided to move from defining various struggles to addressing struggles. The message change comes after “Save The Children”, when “We Will Get Through This” says directly to you that I will hold onto you if you hold onto me, followed by “Orange Blues” preaching that my sexual healing will help me cope. This is followed by “I Hate Hate” and the prescription to “end the objections, make the corrections, change your direction, make your peace”. At the end of the album, the final action item is presented in a hijacked Christmas Carol (traditional melody, my lyrics)… the closing command to “make the right choice”.
Q Many of your songs feature inclusive language and direct address to the listener. What effect are you hoping to achieve with this approach?
An opening of the ears to better hear, an opening of the eyes to better see, an opening of the heart to better heal, and a strengthening of the voice to better advocate.
Q In writing about justice and ethical responsibility, how do you navigate the balance between urgency and hope?
Just as no balance is needed between justice and ethical responsibility, no balance is needed between urgency and hope. A balance is needed between urgency and consistency, and between hope and perseverance. In each of these couplings, the former fuels the fire of change and the latter builds sustainability.
Sometimes my songs are imbalanced, as life can be. I am an Aries and I attempt to optimize my optimism. Some issues, however, require a weighting in the other direction, thus you have the very urgent and hopeful “Rainbow Soul” as well as the very urgent but more subdued “No Crowns For Clowns.” You have the less hopeful and urgent “Save The Children”, as well as the more hopeful and less urgent “New World”.
Q Looking back on the album, what do you hope listeners take away from the lyrical journey you’ve crafted across these eleven songs?
I would like listeners to feel poked and prodded by what they have heard – stimulated to ask themselves “why”, “what if”, and “how”. I would hope that listeners would be able to endure the journey from the less pleasant to the more hopeful that I tried to map out.
