"Now I can say loudly and openly what I have been saying to myself on my knees"
About this Quote
The line catches the moment when private devotion turns into public art. The image of speaking “loudly and openly” after having said the same words “on my knees” collapses the divide between the whispered prayer and the public declaration. Humility remains in the posture of kneeling; confidence and responsibility arrive with the raised voice. It is not a turn from piety to performance, but a decision to let what was most intimate become audible, accountable, and shared.
Duke Ellington reached that point in the mid-1960s with his Sacred Concerts, beginning with the 1965 premiere at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco and continuing with two more in 1968 and 1973. For a composer long celebrated for elegance, wit, and orchestral color, the step was not a sudden conversion but an unveiling. Pieces like “Come Sunday,” with its deep roots in Black spiritual tradition, had already woven reverence into his work. By bringing jazz into cathedrals, he insisted that the language of his community could praise God with the same dignity as any liturgy. The sentence signals that permission: the music would no longer hint at faith through metaphor alone; it would testify.
The timing matters. In an era marked by civil rights struggles and debates about high and low culture, Ellington framed jazz as both sacred and sophisticated. Saying out loud what had been said on his knees honors the church’s private solace and the stage’s public power. It also suggests a broader emancipation: truths that Black artists kept guarded, from survival or modesty, deserved the microphone. The result is not brashness but clarity. He stands up from prayer not to abandon humility, but to carry it into the open, trusting that candor can be an offering. The music that follows becomes a kind of sermon, one that turns personal faith into communal sound.
Duke Ellington reached that point in the mid-1960s with his Sacred Concerts, beginning with the 1965 premiere at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco and continuing with two more in 1968 and 1973. For a composer long celebrated for elegance, wit, and orchestral color, the step was not a sudden conversion but an unveiling. Pieces like “Come Sunday,” with its deep roots in Black spiritual tradition, had already woven reverence into his work. By bringing jazz into cathedrals, he insisted that the language of his community could praise God with the same dignity as any liturgy. The sentence signals that permission: the music would no longer hint at faith through metaphor alone; it would testify.
The timing matters. In an era marked by civil rights struggles and debates about high and low culture, Ellington framed jazz as both sacred and sophisticated. Saying out loud what had been said on his knees honors the church’s private solace and the stage’s public power. It also suggests a broader emancipation: truths that Black artists kept guarded, from survival or modesty, deserved the microphone. The result is not brashness but clarity. He stands up from prayer not to abandon humility, but to carry it into the open, trusting that candor can be an offering. The music that follows becomes a kind of sermon, one that turns personal faith into communal sound.
Quote Details
| Topic | I Love You |
|---|
More Quotes by Duke
Add to List
