BUCKING THE SYSTEM: MUSIC AND MAMA SONGS HELP US KNOW GOD IS NEARBY

"Over my head

I hear music in the air.

There must be a God somewhere."

The Negro spiritual "Over My Head" was one of my favorite songs as a little girl. Not only did I like the soulfulness of the song, I liked the idea of hearing a musical sound so wondrous that it made me think God was nearby.

That song's been in my head since the start of National Black Music Month June 1. It's a kind of theme song for me, setting the tone for my enjoyment.

As far back as I can remember, my parents made sure we were surrounded by all kinds of music. There was music at church and in the car and on the television. We didn't own any instruments other than our own voices, but we put those to great use belting out The Motown Sound, Disney favorites, and all the movie and musical soundtracks we got our hands on.

It helped that my dad was a gadget freak who absolutely had to be the first in the neighborhood to get the new music technology. Dad could be relied on to have the top of the line eight-track, reel-to-reel, component set, dual cassette and CD player before everyone else we knew.

He also liked to spend money on records, cassettes and CDs, many of which my sister and I have enjoyed filching since we came of age.

Thanks to my parents I have pretty eclectic tastes in music. I like gospel and classical, country and the blues, Latin and Caribbean rhythms, and of course, I love R&B soul.

Regardless of whether it's Willie Nelson or Otis Redding, Celine Dion or Gladys Knight, Selena or Re Re the Queen of Soul, just as long as they can "flat out sang", I'll be there to hear it.

But professional musicians aren't the only folks I'll listen to. My love for music is strong enough it allows me to appreciate Sesame Street songs, especially Ernie's wistful rendition of "I Don't Want to Live on the Moon" and the fun sing-along favorite "Elmo's Song."

And then there are the Mama Songs. For those of you who don't know about them, these are the modern spirituals performed by working women who have experienced life in all its various forms. Sometimes Mama Songs are moaned mournfully, other times they were hummed happily, and still other times they were sung in a joyful kind of release.

I don't really remember hearing my mother sing a Mama Song. Instead, the older women in my life were the sources of these unforgettable dirges/ditties.

Sometimes early in the morning I can still hear Ma Mable humming her gospel tune as she washed dishes, just "glad to be in His service one more time."

And then there was Ma Dear, who sang her songs under her breath as she prepared her homemade biscuit dough. It was almost as if the song provided the rhythm she needed to add her special touch to the light, buttery biscuits that tasted like they were made on the other side of Heaven.

These women, just as much as any professional entertainer, helped me to develop the love I have for music. They didn't have the greatest voices, but they were great singers. The emotion they invoked with a single note made me feel something, and that's what great music is all about.

Their emotion, along with Dad's enthusiasm and, of course, great performers, inspired me to sing my songs. Sometimes I sound great, and other times I just sound.

And sometimes, something happens that makes me think God is nearby.