My Own Blog: Summertime

Summertime is a mountain of a song. It has a heavy, lingering ache to it, that survives no matter how many times it is covered, by countless varying artists. Not even the folky-pop artist Jewel could kill the inherent sorrow laced throughout the song, and believe me, she gave her best shot at, totally butchering the classic. This is available to view after Paul Robeson's version in the Youtube menu after the song finishes.

The song Summertime was written in 1935 by George Gershwin for the opera Porgy and Bess, lyrics by Dubose Heyward.

The opera Porgy and Bess premiered in New York in 1935. It was based on the novel Porgy, with a storyline of the African American experience in the real-life Cabbage Row in Charleston, South Carolina, in the early 1920s. The opera featured an entire cast of classically trained African-American singers. Not until 1976 did the American audience accept this work as a legitimate opera.

On a personal note, my Grandfather, who was a jazz musician (piano, voice) would sing this song to my mother when she was little to put her to sleep, when he was home. He died early, in an alcohol related crash, thus creating even greater significance with this song. I remember my mother singing this song to me and to my little brother in the same manner, but, when she did, it was not a soothing experience. It was punctuated with desperation. Playing out the foggy childhood memories of her father on us, she sang to him- at us. With poverty and violence looming around us, we would dutifully remain silent as she "sang us to sleep".

Later, when I lived in a group home, the staff Tyrone would introduce me to jazz and reggae greats, and that was when I heard Summertime, in a way that touched me, down to my bones. It was Sam Cooke's version. I have never forgotten it. And through this song, I have my own connection. Tyrone was like a father to me. He was hard, and had high expectations of me. And I now know it was because he cared. He looked at me with pride, when I dove into the music/culture he exposed me to, when I stood tall and held myself like a strong young woman. He was the father I never really had and I will be forever grateful to him. May he rest in peace.

Paul Robeson