I heard this song for the first time earlier this month, and I kept getting called back to it. For a few days, each time I listened I was moved to tears. I was moved in a way that wasn’t sadness, but something helping me feel my own heart—helping me connect with something deeper; a space where things are experienced with a different sense of meaning, and a powerful feeling of connection to a bigger picture.
I was standing at my kitchen counter fixing breakfast when this happened—getting my morning started in the daily life movement of thoughts, questions, responsibilities. I heard Faada Freddy’s voice singing the main melody line of the song, and in a moment, I found myself in this deeper space—the day-to-day landscape now ringing with a different kind of truth.
This is what I’m pointing towards when I talk about “A Church With No Walls”—the sacred moment that’s possible anywhere, and available to everyone.
My original intention with this series of posts was mainly to share music that I have a deep, long-standing relationship with—that I’ve listened to for a long time. So I was surprised when I felt the inspiration to share this song from an artist I just discovered a few weeks ago and who I know very little about. But as I thought about writing this post, this is where the inspiration was, and as I write, I keep discovering more about it; about this song, about this exploration I’m calling “A Church With No Walls,” and about the spirit of music—how it’s moving and the power of what it’s offering us.
In the first post of this series, “A Church With No Walls (1),” I introduced some of the questions guiding the series with a few thoughts about the American gospel/soul singer, Sam Cooke, and his song “A Change is Gonna Come”:
“Like so many American musical pioneers, Sam Cooke started his musical journey in church. And years later, when he transitioned from gospel to ‘popular music,’ and became one of the originators of American soul music, the understanding was that his music had ‘left the church.’ But listening to ‘A Change Is Gonna Come,’ and having the powerful experiences I’ve had with this song, makes me wonder: Did Sam Cooke leave the church, or is it possible that he helped expand it? Did he take it beyond conventional chapel walls and help create an expanded sacred space—a place where meaningful, transcendent experiences could be available to anyone?
. . . Sam Cooke’s story has parallels among the founders of virtually every American popular musical style, from blues to country, jazz to rock ‘n’ roll. ‘A Church With No Walls’ explores the potential of an ‘expanded sacred space,’ and the role of American popular music, and music from around the world, in helping to create it.”
As I’ve reflected on my inspiration to share this song, “Massilo,” thoughts have been coming strongly to mind around this “expanded sacred space” and the particular role American popular music has played in its evolution. “Massilo” has elements that are clearly influenced by Black American gospel, soul, and R&B music, particularly aspects of the singing style and vocal runs. Listening to other songs of Faada Freddy’s, it’s evident that these musical styles have influenced his work, and as I explored his catalogue, I found that he has an earlier album called “A Gospel Journey.” It feels clear that Sam Cooke’s expanded church found its way to Freddy, and that these traditions, among others, are supporting the transformative power of his music.
The lineage of Hip Hop—another deeply significant branch of this expanded sacred space—is also present in “Massilo,” as Freddy raps (or “rap sings”) the final verse of the song. Learning more about him, I also found that he has roots in Hip Hop, and is a member of a popular Senegalese Hip Hop group called Daara J.
So Freddy’s work stands in deep relationship with these American musical traditions, and their transformative capacity. The step taken by so many formative American artists from the chapel to the night club—and in the case of Hip Hop, a step of creative power against all odds—has allowed a profoundly impactful spirit to reach countless people around the world in life-changing ways. Faada Freddy’s music is an example of this, but it’s also a window into another deep dimension of this story.
If we continue tracing the pathway of the spirit that moves so powerfully through American music, we see that Freddy stands at one end of a continual intercontinental dialogue. A significant aspect of the creative spirit that reached him in Senegal through songs arriving from the U.S., originally reached the U.S. (before we called it that) through songs arriving from Freddy’s West African homeland. Although the musical traditions carried by enslaved Africans to the America’s were brutally repressed (and in many cases outright prohibited by law), the spirit of these traditions found a way through extraordinary violence, oppression, and forced mass displacement to plant seeds of transformation on American soil.
It would be difficult to trace all the ways these seeds have taken root and branched out, but it’s clear that the power of American popular music can find a fundamental aspect of its roots in African musical and spiritual traditions. These roots came to life through Black American gospel music, and later in virtually every style of popular American music. Decades, and even centuries later, these musical styles were then broadcast around the world through radios, records, and eventually online, reaching people like Faada Freddy, and offering all of us who experience this music an opportunity to connect with a powerfully transformative spirit; a force carried by the music—something which has survived circumstances of the most extreme difficulty to reach us.
I once heard the Puerto Rican-American poet, Willie Perdomo, say that poetry itself is a big conversation. Every poem written is a statement in this conversation, influencing others and inviting responses. These responses, in turn, elicit more statements, comments, questions, and the conversation continues.
I think we can view music in a similar way. It’s a global conversation, a spirit on the move. It moves across land and sea, countries and continents, and breaks all kinds of boundaries to reach the places and hearts where it needs to do its work. In my understanding, this work is of great, and even critical, importance. This moving spirit is on a mission. It is trying to make itself available to us so that we can connect with our own hearts and a level of meaning and understanding that is absolutely necessary for our next steps as human beings, and to healthfully work with the level of challenge we are facing as a world.
Across the world’s cultures, music has always been a doorway to the sacred, and to that which is healing, unifying, and truly transformative. What I’m referring to as “popular music” is music which is no longer situated within explicitly “sacred” contexts, but has nonetheless maintained a connection to the transcendent spirit which has always made music so powerful.
The spirit of music has adapted its trajectory to meet us where we are. It has shifted along with our shifting world, and in a time when less and less of us find ourselves in traditional sacred settings, these streams of popular music have been available to open our hearts and our deep vision. The church, temple, or sacred practice may now be experienced at the kitchen counter, at the club, or through headphones on the Subway.
Faada Freddy’s song, “Massilo,” is a powerful expression of this global conversation, and this spirit on the move. There are many generations of musical streams from many places singing through this song. There is a long, enduring conversation moving through it, continuing to find new ways to carry out its mission, and highlighting the fact that this conversation is, more than ever, a global one. We’re in a time when voices and traditions from all over are meeting all the time. What’s possible now for music’s next steps, and how we can we participate?
This conversation also goes beyond conventional language. We can all understand it, regardless of where we’re from. As I’ve listened to “Massilo,” I’ve thought a lot about this. The lyrics of this song are in a language I don’t understand,1 and yet I can feel so much meaning coming through Freddy’s voice. In some way, on some level, I am understanding what the song is saying, and it’s impacting me deeply. I’m interested in the communication that happens on this level—the idea that the truth of one heart can be shared with another, in a language anyone can understand.
How can we grow our capacity to understand and speak this language? How can this help us experience deeper connections with each other, and help us bridge differences in this time?
It’s interesting to write so much about a song when maybe it would have been equally helpful just to post it and invite folks to listen. The experience is actually in hearing the music itself. At the same time, I am interested in helping to highlight certain threads and how they connect to a bigger story, and several of the threads that appeared in this post, hadn’t been visible to me in this way before I started writing. It took a step of trust to dive in without knowing exactly why this was calling me and where it would go, and I’m grateful for the reminder to keep improvising. In my experience this seems to be how we connect with the power of music—an openness to feel called and inspired, and a willingness to follow a spirit in constant movement.
Love Bravely is a cross-genre music project and creative community founded by rapper/singer-songwriter, Matre, in collaboration with a wide network of musicians, artists and creatives. For more information visit us on Substack.
Our work is made possible by a community of supporters. To join this community and help this work flourish, you can become a monthly contributor on Patreon or make a one time donation here. Thank you!
To check out more of Faada Freddy’s music, and to hear his new album Golden Cages (2024), which features the song, “Massilo,” visit his YouTube channel or Instagram page.
Afro Unidad is a Pan-African cultural kinship movement founded in 2020 by Afro organizations and artists. The movement includes over 50 Afro Ambassadors across 14 countries who host events and programs globally. For more information visit: https://www.projectknucklehead.org/afro.
From what I’ve learned about Faada Freddy’s work, the lyrics of this song appear to be in Wolof—the most widely spoken language in Senegal, although I haven’t been able to definitively confirm that.
I found what you wrote here deeply inspiring, Matt - “A Church With No Walls”—the sacred moment that’s possible anywhere, and available to everyone."
I had a similar experience a couple of weeks ago, standing at my bathroom mirror, fixing my hair. Suddenly a whiff of the perfume of hyacinths in a pot on the counter came to me. Immediately my mind was quieted and I entered into a deeper state of peace within myself. Amazed, I paid attention to this "communication" from the flowers, totally touched in the moment by the gift that had been given and I felt a joy that lasted for a couple of hours.
Since then I've been looking for this quiet space in other ways. I realized it takes place in the hushed moment I experience when I am regarding a beautiful painting, or when I focus for a time on any plant and am able to take in its full, head on essence, and also in music, where I can feel so deeply into that quiet space.
I loved the way you put this: "How can we grow our capacity to understand and speak this language? How can this help us to experience deeper connections with each other and bridge differences in this time?"
I'm so grateful for this timely article. I would like to find ways to sustain that experience of sacredness, to see if it's possible to live longer moments in a world of deeper meaning and connections and share that with others.
I, too, was touched by Freddy's music, thank you, Matt for bringing it to us.