Windlesoul

Wade in the water Wade in the water children Wade in the water God said He’s gonna trouble the water We are the sons and the daughters We gotta stand up and make it loud Just like our God told the Pharaoh Let my people go We are a new generation From the ones who have gone before He’s calling us out of bondage Let my pеople go “Every tone was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for deliverance from chains. Those songs still follow me, to deepen my hatred of slavery and quicken my sympathies for my brethren in bonds.” (Frederick Douglass; 1845). E. Mark Windle 23 January 2025. For over forty years now I’ve been immersed in a community that celebrates and explores Black music; placing emphasis on a history that remains largely unfamiliar to mainstream society. If there’s any common ground, it’s the assumption that the advent of jazz, R&B and soul represented a release from the constraints of the Church. Irony then, that Ramsey Lewis’ 1966 take on the spiritual Wade in the Water was among the first of countless vinyl record acquisitions as I set out on my journey of musical enlightenment. Wasn’t this stuff supposed to be all about the Devil’s music? Don’t be fooled by the popular misconception that Black America has always had a strong connection with the Church. Much to the frustration of white antebellum society, the reality was that Christianity was a slow burner. It took at least a hundred years and multiple institutional influences before any significant religious transition was evident. Scholars suggest that even then, the attraction lay in the Old and New Testament tales of struggle, hope and freedom – themes that paralleled the African American plight. There should also be no surprise that when this ‘new’ religion was ultimately embraced, bible teachings and prayer were heavily complemented by music and song. Of course, these elements had always been an integral part of ritual celebration and worship of spirits and gods back in the homeland. And pre-emancipation, countless original Christian spirituals were composed by enslaved communities, or existing hymns modified to speak to a different audience. Wade in the Water, one of the most recognisable of spirituals, was first recorded by the Sunset Four Jubilee Singers. At least a dozen other versions followed in what could be described as the golden age of Black gospel between 1925 and 1960. To date, well over 300 published versions of the song sit on the of register of BMI. But let’s backtrack. Nashville’s Fisk Jubilee Singers were the first to rescue slave songs from obscurity. In the late 1800s, and with direct access to oral history from free and formerly enslaved individuals, the student choir built a repertoire of around 40 spirituals and work songs, including Wade in the Water. The purpose was to perform these across the US and overseas as a means of raising money for their financially struggling school. The upshot? Nashville got its Music City moniker from Queen Victoria (so the story goes), and its first historically Black university. Brothers John and Frederick Work brought things further into public consciousness in the early 20th century, when the lyrics appeared in New Songs as Sung by the Fisk Jubilee Singers of Fisk University. If it wasn’t for the efforts of Fisk University, these spirituals may well not have been preserved in their original form, if at all. Other than providing a means of religious expression, spirituals were associated with escape from slavery. Opportunities for escape from plantations and farms which followed Native American raids or spontaneous internal uprisings were invariably ill-fated. The Underground Railroad provided a much more organised option for flight, by employing coordinated systems of passage. The Appalachian Mountains offered indirect access to the northern free states and Canada. Mexico was a more logical destination for the enslaved on Texan or Louisiana soil. In any direction, journeys remained extremely perilous – especially for women and children, the weak and the elderly – but by the time of Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation in 1863, some 100,000 slaves sought passage through the Underground Railroad. Part of its success was the use of code. ‘Passengers’ (escapees) rode the Underground Railroad under the instruction of guides, known as conductors. ‘Stations’ were safe places for rest between each run, taking the form of cellars, churches and rendezvous points in marshland or woods. For communication, the use of code within song was also key; folk songs and spirituals could regularly be heard by slave owners on the plantations and fields, so would give no cause to raise suspicion. Some biblical lyrics doubled as warnings to potential passengers. Others were instructions from guides or co-conspirators to prepare for flight: being “bound for the land of Canaan” referenced a flee attempt to Canada. In Sweet Chariot, “Swing low to carry me home” indicated the imminent use of escape routes to the south. Steal Away meant, well, just that. As far as Wade in the Water is concerned, the literal biblical narrative is the story of the Israelites crossing the River Jordan to enter the Promised Land. For Mama Moses, one of the Underground Railroad’s most notable conductors, it was also code for escapees to enter the streams and rivers, thereby minimising scent and diverting the slave hunter’s bloodhounds from the trail. With the origins of Wade in the Water in slavery, and the uprising of the civil rights movement of the early 1960s, it was a given that there would be a cross-over to a secular setting. Call-and-response has a way of unifying people, whether for religious or political purposes. The Chambers Brothers frequently included Wade in the Water in their performances at music festivals and freedom marches. Prior to the Civil Rights Act of 1964, gospel groups including Sam Cooke and the Soul Stirrers, and The Pilgrim Travellers featuring Lou Rawls fuelled the cause with their versions. The Staple Singers secured its status as a song of solidarity with their take towards the end of the decade, as racial tensions were coming to a head in the urban areas of the North. Outside of the political arena, the musical transition of Wade in the Water to popular music featured folk, jazz, and R&B interpretations. Instrumental versions were popular, doubtless a hang-over from gospel church renditions, and the song was easily adapted for the organ. Ramsey Lewis’ infectious piano and horn-driven jazz / R&B version for the Chess label subsidiary, Cadet, took it to new heights. Political timeliness, shrewd marketing techniques and not least dancefloor appeal ensured it reached peak positions in the US R&B and pop charts and across Europe. Marlena Shaw’s 1966 vocal version for the same record label was also popular at the time. Lyrical content was swapped from the spiritual narrative to one of an intense, seductive and stormy relationship. As Fiona McQuarrie noted in Shindig magazine, this wasn’t well received in some parts: “(The Ramsey Lewis version) inspired vocalist Marlena Shaw to adapt the song’s lyrics for her ‘66 single… an updating which, she said, was put down by the church people in the South who felt that some of the lyrics were a little risqué “. Two years later, Big Mama Thornton presented another alternative lyrical take – and a dramatic switch in tempo – on her rousing recording for Arhoolie, the Californian blues and R&B specialist label. Thanks then to the unknown composer and the conductors of the Underground Railroad; to the Fisk Singers and the Work brothers of Nashville; and to the activists who adopted Wade in the Water as a civil rights anthem. Let’s not forget the record-buying public either. Perhaps the ultimate recognition of the song’s lasting significance is inclusion in Celebrating Fisk! The 150th Anniversary Album. The Fisk Jubilee Singers picked up the 2021 Best Roots Gospel Album Grammy Award for that one. Messages of hope and freedom from oppression clearly still resonate. Two centuries on, the enduring legacy of Wade in the Water is assured. (Copyright 2025; E. Mark Windle)