Skyllstad, Kjell Music in Prison and Freedom
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Music in Prison and Freedom Projects and prospects Kjell Skyllstad University of Oslo Incarceration is one of the most depressing experiences imaginable. Freedom is mostly a concept until you lose it. Suddenly your life is no longer your own. You belong to the state, which means that every little aspect of your life is under the control of someone else…. You’ve already lost the respect and trust of your community, and even being released doesn’t change that very much. Essentially, once you’ve been jailed, you become eternally branded as unwanted: refused decent housing, rejected for employment, unable to care for yourself, let alone your family. This is beginning of a letter headed Music behind Bars that inspired the writing of this article. It was written by an inmate, Ralph Jones (pseud.) while serving a long term sentence in a prison in the US. Words alone cannot measure up to the pain and suffering inflicted by a prison system, which in many countries around the world are still built on the principle of retributive rather than restorative justice. The letter from Ralph points to how this mentality is also mirrored through the ways in which societies react to ex-convicts. Through the ages music and song have developed as vehicles for the expression of the pain of the prison experience, and as a means of survival, often creating new musical forms and genres, like the blues. But, as the letter goes on to show, music also has other functions to fulfill: Reducing tension, connecting people and bringing peace Increasing empathy and reducing animosity Providing an outlet for creativity and self expression Connecting with past life, bringing back happy memories Offering training to make music after release Beginning with a closer look at songs from different times and places mirroring the harsh realities of prison life, we will try to explore these various functions of music behind bars, both in an individual, social and finally political context. A Voice of Compassion Fifty years ago a new voice was heard when Johnny Cash recorded his first song in a Memphis studio, stepping in the footsteps of looming figures on the blues arena like Huddie Ledbetter (Leadbelly), who first recorded for Allan Lomax at the Lousiana State Penitentiary. Cash had early wanted to sing and record in a prison, but Columbia Records was reluctant to support such a project. It would not be an exaggeration to see all his creative output as a social statement, mirroring the harsh realities of life. It all led up to Cash becoming an ardent advocate of prison reform. Cash’s biographer says; Among everything else and perhaps above everything else, Folsom was also a social statement on behalf of disenfranchised peoples, as potent as any such statement in the roiling 1960s, for by appearing in front of America's modern-day lepers and recording and releasing what came of it, he unapologetically told his listeners that these locked-away men deserved his compassion, if not the liberation, that the 1960s offered. (Streissguth 2004, 13) Raised in poverty, Johnny Cash on the backdrop of prison life and the burning issues of the day reflects the universal longing for acceptance, for understanding and not least for love. With deep psychological insight he gives voice to the troubling problems and intense longings of inmates - for love and freedom. The Beast in Me The beast in me Is caged by frail and fragile bars restless by day And by night rants and rages at the stars God help the beast in me Bird on a Wire Like a bird on a wire Like a drunk in a midnight choir i have tried in my way to be free But I swear by this song By all I have done wrong I'll make it all up to you Unchained Take this weight from me let my spirit be unchained In 1968 Columbia Records finally gave the go ahead for a concert in Folsom Prison at Folsom, California. Cash saw his prison concerts (there were to be 30 of them) as a chance to connect with convicts. He was to be one of them, sharing their suffering, remorse and longing. The dark topics were often treated with a sense of humor, also evident in the tension between text and music, reminiscent of the folk ballad. Many of the songs directly address prison life: 25 minutes To Go records the last 25 minutes of a convict on death row. Give my Love a Rose describes an inmate released from prison after ten years, who never made the journey home. And in The Wall a suicide is disguised as an attempt at escape. One song takes the form of a letter from a prisoner to his wife who let him down Dear Mrs. Well I thought you might like to know that they buried his body today Just outside the prison walls They buried him there because nobody cared enough to claim his body Through it all there is the still very potent social critique as in The Man in Black I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime - And things need changin' everywhere you go But till we start to make a move to make a few things right You'll never see me wear a suit of white In San Quentin Johnny Cash puts the retaliatory punishment system in doubt San Quentin, I hate every inch of you, You've cut me and have scared me through an' through. _ San Quentin, what good do you think you do? Do you think I'll be different when you're through. Cash: I mean, I just don't think prisons do any good. They put'em in there and just make 'em worse, if they were ever bad in the first place, and then when they let 'em out they're just better at whatever put 'em in there in the first place. Nothing good ever came out of a prison. That's all I am trying to say. (Streissgut 2004, 42) In releasing the record, Columbia Records, knowingly or not, contributed to the wide spread public picture of all inmates as unrepentant die-hards. After Johnny sings the line," I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die" in Folsom Prison Blues, the prisoners are heard cheering loudly. The jubilation is however added during the post production, as Michael Streissguth confirms. The prisoners in fact stood in complete silence and the applaus broke out only after Johnny had finished the song. Voices from the prisons of Spain A study of Gypsy prison songs of Spain has been published by José Calvo Gonzáles of the University of Malaga (Gonzales 2003). This study was done on the basis of collections done by folklorists during the last part of the 19th century. Gonzáles sees the Carceleras (Gypsy prison flamenco songs) in an historical context as major elements in the formation of Gypsy identity - an Identity of the suffering. In their disjunct poetic language these narratives or micro histories, according to Gonzales, mirror the prison experience through a rich spectrum of expressive content. At the base we find the plaint directly bearing on the suffering sustained by a marginalized and distressed people. Through these songs the gypsy prisoners revindicate their claim to dignity and freedom, while asking mercy in a tone of unbroken will and self esteem rather than submission. In a thematic analysis of the large collections of prison songs Gonzalés attempts a categorization around a variety of themes, many of them recurring in the songs of prisoners from many countries and many periods. Songs about the experience of being detained and incarcerated. Songs about being sentenced. Songs describing everyday prison life Songs about the punitive system Songs describing the physical conditions of prisons Songs about surveillance and inspections Songs about disciplinary reactions and maltreatment Songs describing punitive traditions and power display Songs about the terms of duration of prison sentences Songs about exclusion and marginalization Songs about suffering imposed by the prison system Songs containing individual stories of suffering Songs expressing solitude Songs about the alleviation of pain through work Songs expressing longing for liberty A content analysis affords a deep insight into the alternative value systems of a marginalized and disposessed group. This mosaic forms and themes of Gypsy prison songs, according to Gonzales, reveals an informal submerged justice system, in conflict with the established ethnocentric system of retributive justice. It seems that the early collectors of songs were aware of this conflict and saw their work as a means of voicing protest against the Spanish administration of justice, raising public awareness and paving the way for prison reform. In short, giving convicts a voice. Recently this voice of the community of sufferers and victims of injustice got a chance to be heard by a large audience through a national contest initiated by the various state provincial governments (juntas) and the state accredited national flamenco clubs (penas). It was open to all incarcerated prisoners in Spanish jails, with the chance of winning the ultimate reward of 5000 pesetas and a reduction of their prison term. One hundred and fifty inmates from jails in Malaga, Valencia, Madrid, Alomorca, Barcelona, Ocana, Cuenca and Jaen responded by sending in demo casettes. For the final selection thirty finalists were escorted by the Spanish Guarda Civil to the Cordoba prison, and got a chance to perform with the foremost flamenco instrumentalists and shouters (jaleo). The great success of the project prompted the organizers to bring the winners José Serrano and Antonio “El Agujetas”- both members of the Gypsy community - chained and under armed guard, to the José Delgado's famous recording studio in Granada.