Jadie Reeves: How Can I Keep From Singing?
This setting of the classic folksong questions music’s role within a struggling society. “How Can I Keep from Singing” has taken myriad forms since its original Christian hymn. Sacred themes express steadfast faith in the face of adversity, positioning music as a tool for praise and thanksgiving. Over time, the song entered and gained popularity in secular folk tradition. In updated lyrics attributed to Doris Plenn, faith is adapted to resilience, inspiring solidarity in response to 1950s McCarthyism.
Having been raised in the Catholic Church, I was deeply moved when discovering Plenn’s lyrics.
The familiar song felt more sacred than ever, but it wasn’t God’s power I felt or even the music’s; it was the people’s. While art and attractiveness often intersect, I believe music need not be pleasurable to resonate strongly. “How Can I Keep from Singing” models empowerment in the face of oppression, and in this arrangement, I aim to sonically represent such beautiful passion alongside decidedly ugly forces which attempt – and ultimately fail to – suppress it.
– Jadie Reeves
Text:
My life flows on in endless song
Above earth’s lamentations
I hear the real, though distant song
That hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife \
I hear the music ringing,
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?
While though the tempest loudly roars,
I hear the truth, it liveth.
And though the darkness ‘round me close,
Songs in the night it giveth.
When tyrants tremble in their fear
And hear their death knell ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near,
How can I keep from singing?
In prison cell and dungeon vile,
Our thoughts to them are winging.
When friends by shame are undefiled,
How can I keep from singing?
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I’m clinging.
Since love is lord,
How can I keep [from singing]?
Jadie Reeves, voice • Olivia Moyer, Ari H. Scott, Asher Sizemore, and J Holzen, cello
Audio and video by Nick Reeves • Thumbnail photo by Dylan Masariego