On Monday, November 20, 1995, Bass Concert Hall rustled with the energy of
swirling autumn leaves. The lights went black, and quiet anticipation blanketed
the aisles, save the few giggles and shushes which stole from the near-capacity
crowd. The black slowly yielded to floodlights revealing a choir: Hush!
Hush! Somebody’s Calling My Name! The Huston-Tillotson Concert Choir
launched into the Sunday-Go-to-Meetin` gospel number, which sent the crowd into
a certain but restrained tizzy. This seat-straining tension would remain
throughout the rest of the program.
Even the vogueing and shimmying of the wee Believe in Me! dance team had
the crowd going. Their kid empowerment routines embraced the giddy abandon of
the Seventies PBS show ZOOM. But the best was yet to come….
Maya Angelou took the podium like buffalo soldiers taking a hill. Her low,
satiny alto channeled a stream-of-consciousness medley of folk songs. “When
I get to be a composer…” Angelou exploded at the coda, to wild
applause, “I`m going to write about daybreak in Alabama!” She spoke first of
the importance of composing one’s own life. Recalling the suffering of previous
generations — of Africans in 1619 (“One year before the Mayflower!”) laid
“like spoons, belly to back,” in slave ships coming to America — she reminded
her flock that “our way [here] has been paid.” Her self-esteem manifesto, laced
with the dignity of one who has earned her pride, continued, “If you know you
are paid for, you know you are somebody.” And referring to the many youngsters
in attendance (courtesy of a Junior League ticket buy for 1,300 kids), she
struck: “Now it is time for us to pay their way…”
Hailing “Romance” as the evening’s theme, Angelou insisted that, “Without
[it], you stand the chance of becoming brutish… crass… thick… and a
little stupid.” She implored the younger set to truly listen to lyrics of
songs, as there lies the true power. She acknowledged her own dated references
with a wink, saying that it didn’t matter if the songs were by “…Queen
Latifah, M.C. Hammer, or L.L. Cool & the Gang!”
Angelou’s range of demeanor — authoritative, flip, angry, silly, or dead
serious — served her chosen readings well (James Weldon Johnson, Nikki
Giovanni, Mari Evans, and her own works). Her sloopy, sexy take on Johnson’s
“Jump Back, Honey, Jump Back,” was thigh-slappingly inspiring. Angelou earned
every, “Oh yeah!,” “Uh-huh!!,” and “All right, now!,” delivered by
the
loving audience. She concluded as she began, with a reprise of the same folk
songs, this time punctuated with her dedication to “the liberation of the human
mind and spirit, beginning with my own.” And for one sterling moment, it seemed
as if everyone in that crowd was willing to do the same. — Kate X Messer
This article appears in January 12 • 1996 and January 12 • 1996 (Cover).