Mavis Staples

After the song ended, she shouted the refrain one last time in her deep, throaty voice, then stomped with both of her feet halfway across the stage, fists clenched and yelling in joy. The microphone was forgotten. So was the crowd. For forty-nine years she had been singing the song – she sang it for Martin Luther King Jr. and for sun-drenched masses like this – and the final chords still swept her with emotion like the dusty afternoon her father had sung it for her the first time. The band behind her struck up the next song.