Dedicated to Jenay Manley, who (alongside Dominique Walker of Moms for Housing; Nicole McCormick of West Virginia United Caucus; and Maria Estrada, President of Southern California League of United Latin American Citizens) delivered an incredibly moving speech at a national women's leadership forum yesterday, and to all of the KC Tenants, who have inspired me endlessly in 2020, most recently fighting week in and week out to keep people from being thrown into the streets during this pandemic.
H.E.R.'s "I Can't Breathe" is 4 minutes and 47 seconds of claustrophobic struggle that stands as a singular musical statement for 2020.
Yes, it's a direct response to the George Floyd murder and the moment when 26 million Americans hit the streets in protest against police brutality and the white supremacy that too often instigates and justifies it. But it's also a record that musically ties together all of the killings in the current pandemic. It works on multiple levels because it's clear on "black lives matter" as a call for human liberation.
"I Can't Breathe" grabs your attention with an echoed percussive slapping of guitar strings, like a straining heartbeat, and then H.E.R. (Gabriella Wilson) launches a harmony vocal riding that slow, steady beat, her unsung breaths caught in the close-walled mix.
The layers of the mix grow into a suffocating wall of sound. Ghostly voices, many (perhaps mostly) Wilson's own and occasional cries of pain that sing out on and around that original bass melody she initiated at the start. Her lead vocal strikes high, insistent, trying to make sense of a head-spinning set of contradictions:
"Starting a war screaming peace at the same time...."
"Always a problem if we do or we don't fight...."
"The protector and the killer is wearing the same uniform...."
"We breathe the same, and we bleed the same, but still we don't see the same."
A low, harmony vocal offers loving support--when Wilson asks for "empathy," knowing she's been labeled the "enemy." And the sympathetic harmony strokes reassurance again.
The song doesn't reach a resolution, but it hits a spoken word bridge that lays out the fundamental contradictions of the American dream and reality since Day One. The summation is part Baldwin's The Fire Next Time as a warning. "Be thankful we are god-fearing," she begins a series of conclusions, "because we don't seek revenge, we seek justice."
Then Wilson demands, "Do not say you don't see color!"
"When you see us, SEE US."
"We can't breathe," she concludes and sighs.
The wall of voices, slightly muffled as if muted by a veil, grows as loud and strong as it can, begging to be heard. It's the ghosts of those we've lost and those who've lost their friends, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers and significant others, from Eric Garner to George Floyd to all those brutalized in other ways, including those forced out of their homes, and those who may well find themselves, in a best case scenario, fighting to survive on a ventilator.
She hopes against hope that she might be heard, but every aspect of this record shows H.E.R. knows what she's up against: "This is the American Pride: it's justifying a genocide."
"I Can't Breathe" (Official Video)
