Musicians from the Washington DC area record songs written in prison

Dasani Dawson perked up as her song “Jail Calls” came on, her lyrics slightly modified and delivered with a head-nodding reggae bass line and an ethereal background melody.

The judge gave me an eight

But tried for life

You know this is not for me

My older sister said she was pregnant

Hope she has a boy

And I will make sure that he grows up straight

And live a life full of joy

Marquis Funderburk was surprised to hear his fast-paced flow on “Perfect Timing.” The rap he wrote about building a music career after being released from prison was transformed into a slow, soulful pop song.

Right now I’m just coal, but just wait, I’ll be a diamond

My brothers will be happy to see me shining out there

I never went to class, I’m in the hallways making music

I only like the beats with piano and acoustic

The listening session in the prison chapel was the culmination of a months-long project in which Dawson, Funderburk and other incarcerated musicians had the opportunity to hear their compositions as lavishly produced pieces of music recorded by professional artists and bands.

The project, titled Out of Our Cells, was the brainchild of husband-and-wife musicians Aram Sinnreich and Dunia Best, who set out to record and promote music written by inmates in the district. Their verses, including messages to their families, love ballads and protest songs, were an important form of self-expression and liberation behind bars. Sinnreich wanted the world to hear them.

“There is so much intelligence, humor and soul on display,” said Sinnreich. “The talent of these composers is undeniable.”

The idea for Out of Our Cells was born years ago during another community music project, Out of Our Shells, that Sinnreich and Best organized during the pandemic in 2021. The pair spent a year recording songs for artists in the Washington DC area who no longer had access to recording studios and gigs due to the pandemic.

In April 2023, they visited the prison as guest lecturers as part of a Georgetown University prison education program and spoke about the pandemic-led “Out of Our Shells” project. Those present were excited by what they heard and told Sinnreich and Best that there were also talented writers and musicians in the prison. Could the couple produce music for them?

Sinnreich and Best loved the idea. They selected songs and poems from five inmates at the Correctional Treatment Facility, which is adjacent to the DC jail.

Funderburk is awaiting sentencing for a 2022 armed carjacking and was previously convicted of two armed robberies in 2022. Dawson has pleaded not guilty to charges including murder and armed robbery resulting from a manslaughter in 2022 and previously pleaded guilty to aggravated assault in a 2022 shooting that left her victim paralyzed. Others in the project are charged with or await sentencing for offenses including murder and distribution of child pornography.

Sinnreich and Best said they did not ask the incarcerated artists about their allegations before collaborating and focused solely on their musical compositions. All of the artists involved were enrolled in an educational program run by Georgetown University’s Prisons and Justice Initiative, he added.

“This project is not about forgiving, forgetting or validating,” Sinnreich said. “It’s about creating opportunities for people to be more than just a horrific act.”

Sinnreich and Best visited the prison in November to select the songs they wanted to produce. Before their visit, they asked staff to distribute leaflets about the project. About 20 people accompanied them in the facility’s classroom.

One after the other, they performed their songs, rapped or sang a cappella. It started nervously, Sinnreich said, but then an infectious energy took over. The whole room snapped its fingers and clapped along.

“It became something like a party,” Sinnreich said. “… Suddenly everyone wanted to share something.”

For the prisoners, writing is an opportunity to express themselves about an experience of loneliness and alienation, says Funderburk.

“Many people use it as a way to cope,” Funderburk said. “Many people use it as a way to express themselves.”

Writing poetry has also brought relief to Harold Cunningham, another inmate involved in the project. He is serving a life sentence for a series of armed robberies and murders in the county in 1993. He is currently incarcerated at the Correctional Treatment Facility awaiting decisions on post-trial motions. For the project, Cunningham submitted a poem he wrote titled “Media Master,” which addresses bias in media coverage of crimes committed by black people.

Cunningham has written about his mental health struggles while in solitary confinement and claimed in a 2012 lawsuit that he was denied psychiatric help in a federal prison. He said programs like Project Out of Our Cells can have a profound impact on the lives of inmates.

“Most people turn to drugs and stuff because they have no other outlet,” Cunningham said. “But when you can do something like rap and poetry … when you do something constructive like that, the day passes and you look forward to the next day.”

After the song selection in November, Sinnreich and Best took a cappella recordings or handwritten lyrics from prison and presented them to bands and artists in the Washington, D.C. area, challenging them to turn the lyrics and melodies into fully fleshed-out songs.

Over the course of the spring, Sinnreich, Best and the artists developed and recorded their interpretations. They also signed contracts that gave the incarcerated artists ownership of their songs. The pair’s band, Dunia & Aram, along with fellow musician Todd Nocera, performed Dawson’s “Jail Cells,” with Best on vocals. By June, they were ready to give the eight completed pieces to the prison.

On an afternoon in early June, dozens gathered in the prison chapel to listen to Sinnreich and Best play the tracks from a laptop. One by one, the incarcerated artists heard their songs come to life, smiling with recognition, sometimes with surprise, as the songs they had only heard a cappella drifted toward pop, R&B and reggae.

“(They) slowed it down so the audience could feel it a little more,” Funderburk said approvingly of Jay Hammond and Bash House, who adapted his song. “I liked it.”

When the listening session ended, applause broke through the band, leaving an excited hum. Funderburk and other artists rose to their feet, cheered on by their friends, to perform new songs a cappella. Sinnreich assured the crowd that the project was not over and that he and Best were looking for funds to return to the prison and record more songs.

Sinnreich said he plans to release the finished album of songs from the Out of Our Cells project online next month, and he also hopes to organize a concert at the prison where the songs will be performed live.

Angela Milhouse listened with rapt attention from the side of the room. Milhouse, who is charged with assault with a dangerous weapon and possession of an unregistered firearm, had written her thoughts on each song in a notebook on her lap. By the end of the afternoon, she had begun writing the first lines of her own poem, “Broken,” on the next page. Hearing the lyrics of those around her helped Milhouse find the words for “thoughts I had suppressed for so long,” she said.

Milhouse, who was imprisoned after the project began, said she would be happy to submit her poem when Sinnreich and Best return to record more songs in prison, but she also longed for an even brighter future.

“I hope I won’t be here,” said Milhouse. “I want to go home. … I’ll still write.”