About one hundred and fifty bronze stars count both sidewalks along the unsightly Delmar Boulevard in St. Louis, USA. The Walk of Fame is a reminder of the famous sons and daughters this city produced. “And all of them – like you – left never to return,” the stepfather of soprano Julia Bullock (36) often tells her.
This also applies to the woman she will sing about in the performance next week at the Opera Forward Festival Pearl Noire: Josephine Baker (1906-1975). The memorial to this black singer and dancer is sunk in the concrete in front of the Middle Eastern restaurant Ranoush, on the corner of Westgate Avenue.
Apart from the same initials, many historical threads connect Julia Bullock and Joséphine Baker: born in the same city, both black, searching for freedom and identity in music and a future in Europe. Bulluck’s biological father, who died when she was nine, shared a cell during his college years with the Reverend Martin Luther King, a tireless anti-racism fighter, the same man Baker asked to speak at the famous March on Washington.
Moving life story
“The image of my father belongs to a child,” she says. “Unfortunately I can’t ask him anything more. I remember he came to our elementary school every year to talk about his experiences and about King. That’s still on film. He had a beautiful baritone. One of my mom’s favorite stories comes from when they first started dating. “When you demonstrated and got scared, what did you do?” she asked him once. To which my father replied: ‘Then we sang.’”
Almost ten years ago, Bullock made a song program about the rise of the American civil rights movement, in which she incorporated some of Baker’s songs. Director Peter Sellars got wind of it and asked if she wanted to further develop the eventful life story of the illustrious singer and dancer. He involved, among others, the International Contemporary Ensemble, composer Tyshawn Sorey and writer Claudia Rankine. Seven years ago Pearl Noire for the first time on stage at the Ojai Music Festival in California. Since then, the performance has evolved.
“Music, lyrics and choreography remain a dynamic whole,” says Bullock. “All parts contain a free space for the performers. From day to day, our experiences can bring about changes. Originally we had seven songs and Claudia’s words about Baker and her children, the vision she had for them and the world.”
Feelings and stories
Three years ago, after the birth of his second child, Sorey added the lullaby ‘Doudou’. “Now I sing that for the first time since I became a mother myself four months ago. This evokes numerous feelings and stories, which have an impact on the performance. When we started rehearsing this song a few days ago, early in the morning – don’t ask me why – I immersed myself in the history of the lynching of black women.”
Bullock stumbled upon a story from 1918 from which she could not tear herself away. “An eight-month pregnant woman publicly complained about the murder of her husband the day before. The perpetrators tracked her down, hung her upside down by the feet in a tree and set her on fire. They cut the baby out of her womb with butcher knives. The child fell to the ground and began to cry. A man hit his head twice. Then they shot the mother several times and threw both into a grave which they marked with a broken whiskey bottle and a cigar. This gruesome description comes from the killers themselves, who afterwards spoke openly, shamelessly, even proudly about their crime. I mean… It’s like… We don’t have to hide anything in this performance. Before I went to rehearsals and shared this story with the others, I bathed my son. Sellars said, “I think you washed this woman and her baby with him.” That’s true. History remains a living organism that allows our existence – and in this case also the representation – to constantly change shape and color.”
With her husband, the German pianist and conductor Christian Reif, Bullock moved to Europe, as Joséphine Baker took refuge in France a century ago because she realized one day that she lived in a country where she was afraid of being black.
Different perspective
“I will not deny the parallels in our lives,” says Bullock. “Some experiences in St. Louis terrified me, but that’s not why I left. Europe also has a colonial past to come to terms with. That said, I now live in Munich, a place where human rights are respected, and with a social structure that not only protects but supports the weak. That, of course, gives me a different perspective on America, on the mind-boggling daily gun violence for which no one takes responsibility or the simple statistic that blacks are five times more likely to die in infants. That is not the reality in Germany. Everything is more humane here. And that takes away a lot of tension.”
Not only Pearl Noirebut also her debut album Walking In The Dark testifies to Bullock’s social commitment. The first sentences she sings on this speak volumes. “When out of men’s hearts, hate is hurled, maybe baby, you’ll live in a better world.” Soprano Dawn Upshaw taught her that singing doesn’t build a career, it builds a life.
“One day I sang to her a song by Hugo Wolf about an abandoned shepherdess on a mountain. Afterward, Dawn said, “Julia, that was beautiful, you want to paint a perfect picture of that shepherdess. But where are you?’ I blushed. Tears burned behind my eyes. “I don’t want to smuggle myself into the song,” I stammered. “I’m afraid it will become complacent.” Dawn looked at me confused and fell silent. “If you don’t give yourself, I can’t bond with you,” she replied. I had convinced myself – like many – of the philosophy that singers are merely a vehicle for song. But that doesn’t help to make emotions palpable. It is even dangerous, because it robs you of humanity, creates distance from the core of singing: connection. And I make music to liberate, not to limit.”
Also read the interview from this series with the band Shame. Shame singer Charlie Steen: ‘As a pop artist, you better not smile too often in photos’