Reset & Rewind: A Seasonal Ode to Black Radio
Featuring a sentimental soundtrack for your fall cleaning rituals
Fall is a time for reflection. The changing leaves remind us how far we've come since last winter, and even as we mourn the twilight of summer's freedoms, the memories sustain us. The same is true with time-honored cleaning rituals, especially when the music ties our habits to old memories, reminding us of our lineage. Whether it's yard work or general housekeeping, there is typically much to do in the fall as the season is filled with a series of preparations and transitions. This is also true in this current season of life.
The world is in a season of change, with so many of our legends (especially artists and musicians) transitioning to the ancestral realm. As we mourn the loss and celebrate their lives, we ask the question: How did we come to know them in the first place? Often the answer lies in one word: cleaning.
It’s such a simple thing — a flip of the switch to turn on the radio, a push of a button to get the sound system going, that (pop!) and thud when the needle hits the vinyl, and even the boop-boop of the TV to play music from streaming. These sounds mark the start to a symphony of scrubbing, washing, sweeping, and reclaiming.
We dive into this time-honored tradition by offering a playlist that we’ve curated with a few personal reflections of our own:
Curator Q&A
What song is your go-to when starting the house cleaning?
Shanté: I usually begin with Motown, then work my way forward. So my starter is often “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” — either the version with Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell or the Diana Ross cover.
Carmelia: “Ascension” by Maxwell. When I lived in NYC, I used to play vinyls while cleaning my apartment, and that song just stuck as the opener. The vibes make me think of the cabinets opening to pull out cleaning supplies, and it feels like an easy way to get started.
Favorite cleaning product?
Shanté: Comet for the win!
Carmelia: I love the Clorox spray — kills germs, kills the rude spiders that try to dance to the music, and really refreshes the space.
Thing you hate cleaning the most?
Shanté: I typically like washing the dishes, but NOT when there’s wet, soggy food in the sink 🤢
Carmelia: Stove grates; they’re big, heavy, and it requires a lot of work to make sure they’re clean. Yes, I know there’s spray, but the whole thing is just labor-intensive, and there’s still the whole rest of the kitchen and house to do.
Signature cleaning song growing up?
Shanté: I was raised by my mom and grandma, with gospel often in rotation at my house. “Grateful” by Hezekiah Walker and The Love Fellowship Choir is one song I’d choose, but also anything by Aretha Franklin.
Carmelia: “Mama Africa” by Peter Tosh, it’s the one that sticks out the most. I later learned that was his tribute to Miriam Makeba, but it’s a pleasing song, especially when you’re sweeping hardwood floors.
Favorite cut off the playlist (and why)?
Shanté: “Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now” because I get into my groove when a long song like this comes on and cleaning becomes a triumphant act in this moment. I also really enjoy “Don’t Disturb This Groove” by The System. I find it hard not to jam out and immerse myself into this song whenever I hear it.
Carmelia: To be clear, this playlist is so long because there’s so much good music to choose from. So much of it brings back memories from so many different eras in life. That said, “Stomp!” by the Brothers Johnson has the drama and orchestration that I love and it works well for cleaning the windows, mopping the floors, even vacuuming (the bass line holds up over the tinny sound of the vacuum motor).
When thinking through the soundtrack for a Saturday or any cleaning day, radio came to mind over and over again. For decades, new songs broke over the radio, and it was the first place that we heard or learned about so many artists and groups. It was the place to give a birthday shoutout and to call in to try to win concert tickets to the latest show in town. Radio was also egalitarian, because even if you couldn’t afford a big stereo system or the latest CD player, you could still hear your favorite songs. And even better if someone called up the station and said exactly what you were thinking about the latest bit of news or celebrity gossip.
Radio was also there when you didn’t know what to play. Now, playlists like ours are often curated by algorithms in the apps, but DJs used to choose the songs to spin for the masses. And to do that, they had to have their pulse on the community, have a taste for the music, and be able to understand why we gravitate to the songs that we do.
The beauty and challenge in our process of curation was the work of reflecting about the generations of music that lend themselves to cleaning days. What do the songs say about us, and why do we love them so much? The answer is freedom of expression.
For many people, home is a space of ownership, even if only of self, and the music has always served as a dutiful representative that speaks for us when we lack the words. And it fortifies us even when we do know what to say. Music for so many of us is the lighthouse that calls us home to the more delicate emotions, the things inside of us that we handle with care. As we gathered songs for this playlist, the themes of Nostalgia, Tenderness, Melancholy, Contentment, Enjoyment, and Hope emerged.
These emotions represent the parts of humanity that are the most full and fragile, especially in trying times. When the Gap Band sang “Yearning For Your Love,” the sound was nostalgic and tender in a way that you could translate to how you rinsed fine glass or handled delicate charms for polishing. “After the Love Has Gone” is about a one-night stand, but after a long night of fun, it can feel equally as tragic to be cleaning stove grates. But similar to the job of scrubbing down the stove, we have to get into the details in order to get this right.
Nostalgia
Nostalgia is that sense of longing for the past; it’s an affection for what was and the fondness that we carry for good moments in our lives. There’s a sweetness in how Stevie Wonder sings “I Just Called to Say I Love You” that reminds many of us of the phone calls on landlines from loved ones. Grandparents, aunties, godparents, and friends calling out of the blue, with no greater agenda than to chat. Minnie Riperton’s “Memory Lane” is the quintessential song to capture these reflections, but even “Harvest for the World” by the Isley Brothers and “Can’t Get Over You” by Frankie Beverly and Maze evoke that same sentiment.
These songs remind us of the good in our lives and the rich history that we all have to enjoy. These are the kind of songs where stories pop up while you’re cleaning, born from the memories of romantic encounters, family gatherings, and other great moments. If you close your eyes, can you picture a good memory? What about if the right song is playing? Do you see what the space looked and felt like? Who was there, and what happened? Sometimes, the act of cleaning is a way to clear a path to create new moments that feel just as good as what we captured in the past. In this way, music becomes a bridge connecting a feeling from past to present.
Tenderness
Tenderness implies softness; it is an emotion that captures the care, gentleness, and affection of our hearts, like a delicate flower, rich with color and scent. “You Know How to Make Me Feel so Good” by Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes speaks directly to the tenderness of physical touch but also carries the sentimentality that is the core of how we love and care for each other. It’s the same kind of affection that we hear in the notes of “Call Me” by Aretha Franklin when she says, “I’m keeping you right here in my heart.” Often, our homes are where we keep the things most precious to us: our families, mementos, and our secrets — good and bad. When Chaka Khan sings “Through the Fire,” she is making an offer to be that home for someone else; it is an invitation to receive love, tenderness, and protection. In so many ways, learning the rituals of cleaning is an invitation to that same proposal.
Many of us were roped into the weekend chores by family members in our youth. We were rounded up and tasked with some aspect of removing the dirt and restoring order to the space. We had to learn how to handle fragile items and make them shine to take away the dirt that obscured their luster. Then and now, cleaning offers that same invitation and opportunity. We can take the space that belongs to us and holds all that is precious and gently restore it. We see this in the moments where tired parents of small children hold out washcloths to smiling faces covered with food. It’s in the way we hold the hands of our elders, helping them up stairs or out of chairs, lifting just enough to help but never to hurt. At home and in cleaning, we are often afforded the opportunity for tenderness irrespective of the outside world and the expectations of others.
Melancholy
The act of cleaning is an explicit acknowledgement of imperfection. It seems obvious to say, but you would never have to clean if everything was always organized and no dirt ever accumulated. For some, the feelings of sadness, dejection, and pensiveness all rolled into one can contribute to a state of disarray. Melancholy is the word that wraps up those feelings. It bundles them like warm bodies wrapped in blankets on the couch, ignoring the dishes, letting the laundry go unfolded as the demands press all around.
Melancholy is the manifested weight of life. Many moments in life and in our current state are heavy, filled with sadness and hard decisions. It’s why songs like “Holding Back the Years” by Simply Red stick so well. It reflects how we contemplate the hard times past and present as we find a way to push forward. When Lauryn Hill sings that “Nothing Even Matters,” we understand the urge to forsake it all, even the act of brightening our space. When going through larger cleaning projects, it can feel daunting — just as burdensome as the world outside. Many can think of a moment when they were wrestling with cleaning supplies, but they would have rather stayed in bed. Yet if tenderness is the vessel that holds the gentleness of love, then perhaps melancholy is the catch basin for heartbreak. It serves as the space where we can feel the fullness of sadness without breaking apart completely.
“Keep on Movin’” by Soul II Soul, “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree and “Exhale” by Whitney Houston all carry the promise that sadness is not cessation. It instead offers us a place to pause and reflect on what has happened and to figure out how we want to move forward. How often in cleaning some oft-neglected space do we find something random that brings back the feelings of nostalgia and tenderness we experienced? The neglect may be a byproduct of feeling melancholy, but if it can bring us back to those moments, maybe it’s not so bad.
Contentment
There’s a particular way that people shift their weight when they’re settling into something good. That rocking motion of getting set just right in a seat on the couch, or nestled beneath the blankets, or even in chairs outside. The combination of satisfaction and happiness in the moment is contentment. Often at the end of cleaning, when we see our good work and how nice our space looks, this feeling comes along, like a warm hug washing over. When the light is cast just right over everything and the dust has been vanquished, it’s easy to understand why Roy Ayers sang that “Everybody Loves the Sunshine.”
“Kiss of Life” by Sade talks about love as a feeling of paradise, and when it comes to how we cultivate and care for our homes, cleaning is part of how we physically manifest that sentiment. Being able to enjoy it, to luxuriate in the fact that our labor has resulted in something good, is gratifying. And simply settling into the couch to celebrate in the moment is part of what propels us forward—not just in cleaning, but in creating the best life we can for ourselves and our loved ones.
Enjoyment
There is pleasure to be had in the act of cleaning, especially if you can rise to the level of a Jedi master and neatly fold a fitted sheet. “Car Wash” by Rose Royce gives the perfect cleaning vibe because it captures the humility needed to find pleasure in restoring one’s space. If you have siblings, cousins, or loved ones that you clean with, that enjoyment creates the core memories that form the basis for future nostalgia. Said differently, it is a way to experience something simple and communal that you can appreciate later on in life. These moments are the basis for shared memories.
“Lovely Day” by Bill Withers and “Always Be My Baby” by Mariah Carey were both created by artists early in their careers. There’s a bright quality to how the music feels, and they’re the kind of songs where people join in and sing along. Even people who live alone find happiness in setting their space just right, bopping to the bass line of Teena Marie’s “Square Biz.”
“What Cha Gonna Do with My Lovin’” by Stephanie Mills is also a great song to step along with as you move things from point A to B. It just feels good to say, “I’m crazy ‘bout your smile.” House cleaning offers an opportunity to be fully present because of the attention to detail required. Music enhances that experience, making the time fly by and giving us that extra boost needed to attack stubborn stains and finish the job.
Hope
Cleaning is an act of hope. It is a preparation of our space in anticipation that our lives can be improved (even if marginally) by removing the dirt and dust and organizing things in their place. Music as an artform is also an expression of hope because it articulates our desires and expectations for a better world. Many people close their eyes when they sing, but then they open their minds and hearts.
How many times have we all been moved by a song? Or seen someone fanning themselves because the words or the melody tapped on an emotion buried deep? As long as accessing those parts of ourselves remains possible, then so too lives the opportunity for us to be a little better and brighter than the day before. When we combine that process of cleaning with our time-honored tradition of turning up the music, we have the capacity to be transformed. It is why this combination creates a fine alchemy, opening our minds and hearts to emotions that may be bigger than the spaces we inhabit.
Songs give us the freedom to express the emotions we dare not speak. Cleaning gives us routine and stability in an unstable society. In a world where the slightest step outside the lines (via a smile, a sigh, or even a snort) could cost you your life, music has always carried the message. It gives us a legacy that lasts long beyond any form of propaganda or fallacy.
In music and life, long before we learn words, we carry emotions. They tie us to memory but also to ourselves, allowing us to remain upright no matter how much outside influences shake us. Core rituals, memories, and our culture are like the trident prongs of an anchor to a ship. No matter how rough the seas of life can be, we remain tethered to our inherent worth. They fasten us to the promise that we have value because we are here, alive and beautiful. And as long as we desire, music is the outlet that allows us to remain afloat and to move ahead. The weekly cleaning ritual was always more than just a routine cleaning of dust and dirt, but also of all of the weight of the outside world.
House cleaning was never just about cleaning the house. It has long represented a way to control what you can, which is the neatness of your space. We can’t control racism, bad bosses, or heartbreak, but we surely can sweep a floor. Often, the Saturday morning cleanup represents a family event that taught us teamwork and self-sufficiency. This is also where we learned to take pride in the small things. Don’t have patience? Cool. Polish furniture or silverware under duress, and you will develop some. Need to learn how to get along with others? Try folding the biggest sheets and tablecloths in the house on your own, and you’ll find that you likely need to ask for help. And of course, someone always had that one room you couldn’t go in that was kept spotless (for guests).
Even in these moments, no matter how you felt about being summoned from your nice, warm bed — no matter whether or not you were free to fully express it— the music was there. Tired and heartbroken? Mary J. will help with that, as you’re going down, down, down the stairs with a vacuum. The shakers of Sade in “The Sweetest Taboo” match that perfect seasoning of Comet as it hits the tub, giving you just enough flair to ensure that the scrub came out right. And Auntie Anita might remind you that there was a love that was just as encompassing as all of the fumes you inhaled with “Caught Up in the Rapture.” So many people have countless memories associated with cleaning, and so many people have grown to reclaim themselves by how they clean and organize their lives. The same is true with developing an appreciation for music.
Much like now, the music formed in the 70s, 80s, and 90s was formed in a time of turmoil, when creativity was the only thing keeping people from the madness. Music has always been the friend that offered words or sounds to encapsulate the feelings we could not voice. It often marks the difference between being alone and lonely, especially when we can choose the songs that are most salient to us. Developing our own tastes and rituals to pass down becomes part of the legacy and history that shapes our culture in all of its beauty.
Cleaning serves as a time of discovery, a time to see who people are without the scrutiny of the outside world foisted upon them or who they pretended to be because of it. Think about uncovering magazines with Black actors and actresses, shining in the lights of fame and uncertainty. Photo albums, dusted and flipped open, revealed the past lives of our ancestors, their pride and determination to thrive almost tangible. Bold mannerisms, outfits, and smiles, all in faces that reflect our own features back at us.
In our youth, even going through closets and finding old clothes offered a glimpse into the armor our parents put on to go out into the world. Whether it was a work uniform or the requisite Sunday best (the finest shoes, hats, belts, and brooches included), all were indicators of style. When accompanied with the right song, it was easy to picture these people as larger than life. The woman in the muumuu pointing with the mop could easily be transformed into a prayer warrior — the woman who people in the church came to rely on. A man in sandals and slacks (paired with a white tank top or a ratty tee shirt) was the person who could fix anything, especially if it meant that the process would be done by the time college football came on. And yet to see them together, singing their favorite songs, provided a glimpse into the core of who they truly were, unabridged and unoppressed. The love was there, and it’s something we wanted to capture for ourselves — that good feeling that we could carry on no matter where we went in life.
The act of cleaning, the music we choose, and the moments we create are all validations of our inherent value as human beings. Music has always been a form of reclamation, as the process of listening consistently provides a way to return to ourselves. And in our homes, when everything is returned to its place and the house is shining and bright, our space becomes a manifestation of the beauty within all of us. Not because it is perfect, but because it is ours.
Listen to the playlist
Check out our playlist “Reset & Rewind” on Spotify and Apple Music! It features over nine hours of music, crafted with Black Radio and weekend cleaning in mind.
Credits
Text:
, writer ofEditing:
Q&A/Playlist curation: A F.U.B.U. collaboration
This is such a beautiful piece about the companionship of music and cleaning in Black homes. The range of emotions put to words is to be studied. Thanks for writing this! 🫶🏾✨
Thank you for the playlist!