Aretha Franklin’s voice is the voice of America. No other contemporary artist embodied the nation’s brash optimism with as much flair, nor exemplified its sorrow-forged resilience as convincingly. No one better expressed American joy. Her murmurs gave shape to a sensuality that defeated repressive moral codes and replaced them with the commandments of tenderness, of sweet bitter love. Her high notes made hope happen. When she sang, we remembered that we could walk on the moon.
Franklin, who died today at the age of 76, was a child of the African-American Great Migration that created our nation’s version of modernity and of the golden age of gospel that formed the fundament of rock and soul. Her music did the crucial work of art in the 20th century: It captured the experience of living through profound change and showed how to preserve integrity in its wake. She was a central player in the civil rights movement, American democracy’s fundamental historical struggle. The key words in Franklin’s most famous songs — respect, freedom, the word chains turning in a deliberate slip of the tongue to change — articulate personhood by connecting the body to the mind, the feet that wander to the arms that hold loved ones close. And the voice that echoes in our memories, from its belly growl to those heaven-hitting squalls, embodies liberty itself.
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