Creator's note: "safronia"

i.

wont say this is a ghost story. but i will say 

surphonia met me in dream. in an air bnb 

in nola. on elysian fields. a few doors down 

from Baldwin & Co. coffee + books. surphonia said, 

avery. my eyes found her at the front door. 

her face & carseda’s face — identical. but 

 

surphonia’s face harder. not hard like rough 

but hard like razored in structure. everything a line 

as opposed to round. i sat up. wiped my eyes. 

said yes granny. 

 

& then. at her feet, i was. & she knew 

i write poetry & drip Curtis Mayfield. she knew 

i holy roll in gospel, blues & Funkadelic. she said 

the harmonica in the score blew her skirt up 

in a good way.                    we laughed. 

 

in her face, i saw all her brothers & sisters. 

her children’s children. her mother. her father. she said 

she liked the names that i gave them. magnolia. 

baar [b/air]. she knew the a-f-r- change in her name was 

my honoring of Nina Simone’s Four Women & Africa. she said,

but we be from de blood of jee-sus. alla us. 

especially my daddy. so 

 

un-crook him spine. yo word(s) 

mus(t) set him bac(k) straight. 

 

han(d) him a grace 

amerikka did not. does not. 

 

& erywherr yo opera go 

u will give yo people a box on erf.

 

then                  safronia walked out of the door. 

all of my tossing & turning to get her right stopped. 

i slept easy & assured that a story would be told. 

& my message would land.

so children, this is not a story of ghosts. safronia invites praise 

into the art district. speaking a language that announces 

american classical music is what wonder, armstrong, richard, 

leadbelly, watts, wolf & so many more of us compose. 

 

this is dramatic story-telling 

with the music blk southerners brought 

with them up north. from their hearts, mouths & limbs, 

so that they could sink their feet into a zion. 

 

remain spine erect 

& breath aligned.              this opera 

is not about dead people.

this opera is about how we live. 

one song in front of the other.

ii.

Grew up playing church. Out West. Chicago. During a time when [on any given Sunday] the neighborhood of North Austin would be scored by The Winans, The Whispers, and Mahalia/Millie Jackson. Activated on the staircase of a finished basement apartment. Me on tenor on the top step. (My sisters) Angela & Carseda on alto on the middle steps. Then Shana (the baby) on soprano on the first step. Along with whatever cousin who would be over to spend the night, we chose the songs we wanted to sing the lead on &/or direct. We would be the home & visiting choir. Sing the A & B selections [of both choirs]. We would also play shout. But deeper than our play, we would sing, shout, preach &/or direct in the way of the person we were pretending to be. Sister Roscoe had a distinct move in her praise. Auntie Jeffie Mae had not only a particular movement, she also had an unique roar. Her Thank you Jesus could shake the walls of a church house & steeple. & Angela had it down pat! I bring this up because the recalling of this play, I now have a solidified marker of where my life in opera-making, singing & building began. 

This opera that woke me up out of sleep one morning, is play-church & jook-joint. The preparation of holiday dinner. No room in the house spared of music. Black music. Soul Train, Jubilee Showcase, Curtis Mayfield. Fry anything while Aretha Franklin is singing Angel, & I promise you it will taste better. Remembering all of this makes me pause at the moment these two nights at Lyric Opera House is. This moment is more than the premiere of the story based on a family’s journey from Lexington, Mississippi to Chicago, it is a testament to the rock & roll, plus the praise & soul that scored the tribulations and triumphs of an American family. This moment is about the way a kitchen becomes a concert hall during a card game. This moment is about how the shower becomes the stage for an aria. This moment is about how opera, as a genre and institution isn’t rich & White (or at least it shouldn’t be). When we talk a classical American songbook, we must understand the songs in that book come with many skins, tongues & stories. This new work of safronia couldn’t be set in the day & time it is & not sound like the music the bookers listened to &/or sang. Therefore this new work that is safronia seeks to present opera not only as a hallelujah dance hall, but it also presents opera as everyday as weather. As close as coat. As near as friend. 

Myself, along with Lyric, Tim, Paul, de deacon board & all the other artists involved, that will take the audience (congregation) to that basement staircase. Talk about fullcircle. Talk about a wheel in the middle of a wheel. Leave here tonight with the testimony that you saw a door kicked open. Familiarize yourself with the plush seats & the gold & red of the walls. We (family) are in here now. And will be many more times to come.