The Independent Ear

Salim in South Africa: From Bahia to Durban

A residency in South Africa, following a similar stint in Brazil, has given Salim Washington some interesting perspectives on the music of those two culturally-rich nations.

 

Salim Washington in performance

 

I had the pleasure of first meeting the Memphis-born, Detroit-raised saxophonist-flutist-composer-educator Salim Washington in the early 90s while collaborating with the New England Foundation for the Arts (NEFA) on the formation of the Lila Wallace-Reader’s Digest National Jazz Network project.  At that point Salim was a valued member of the Boston jazz community and someone my colleagues from NEFA made sure I met.  Since then Salim has taken up residency in New York as a member of the jazz studies faculty at Columbia University, where the goal is not pedagogy but rather jazz music as a course of general study.

 

Last year Salim distributed several superb chronicles detailing his residency in Bahia in vivid detail of the sort one only gets from someone thoroughly aware and hip correspondent down on the ground.  This year he’s done the same from his even more extensive current residency in Durban, South Africa, the bustling city that is at the heart of that beautiful country’s Kwa-Zulu Natal region.  His portraits of South Africa have been so vivid that a more detailed conversation with The Independent Ear was in order.

 

Please talk about the nature of your recent residency in Brazil and your current residency in South Africa.

 

My residency in Brazil was simply a case of being called down to Bahia by the spirits.  I went there basically with no agenda or any kind of affiliation with anyone there or here.  I have been curious about Brazil in general and Bahia in particular for some time, most especially since my brief visit to Cuba in 2002.  That trip found me unhappy about having to leave so soon, and as I spoke with my travel mates about the things that intrigued me so about the peoples and cultures of Cuba I was advised to make it a priority to visit Bahia.  So, I went there simply to learn about the music and culture of Bahia.  I also needed a break from New York to a certain extent.

 

My residency here in South Africa is very similar, in that I am here because of a long time curiosity and admiration for the music and peoples of this country.  I first wanted to come to South Africa after the Soweto uprisings of 1976.  I was just out of high school and was impressed with how the young people of South Africa had taken the lead in the freedom struggle.  Shortly thereafter I heard a record of Chris McGregor & the Brotherhood of Breath and fell in love with the sounds of [trumpeter] Mongezi Feza, [alto saxophonist] Dudu Pukwana, [bassist] Johnny Dyani…  More recently, I became quite curious about the sounds of [pianist-saxophonist] Bheki Mseleku and began to research South African jazz more thoroughly.  I was awarded a Fullbright fellowship to spend time here teaching and researching jazz.  So, this trip is more formal in some ways, and also it is funded, allowing me a greater degree of comfort and also the privilege of experiencing the trip along with my two daughters.

 

Although you have completed your residency in Brazil and your South Africa residency is ongoing, how would you compare & contrast the two countries and your experiences?

 

That is a question that we could spend quite some time on…  Briefly, I would say that the two countries are vastly different.  They are similar in important aspects as well, including a long-standing political, economic, and cultural reality of race-based discrimination and oppression.  The racial and class divide between, say, the favelas of Rio and the beach properties of Ipanema are stark and heart-breaking, not to mention dangerous.  While not based upon a legal system like South Africa’s Apartheid or the United States’ Jim Crow, racial stratification is nearly as complete as it is in those two countries.  Another similarity is that much of the current landscape is determined by economic status moreso than race, but the racial history of both nations have left long legacies and determine much of the economic and social reality for many to this very day.

 

My stay in Brazil — mostly in Salvador, Bahia, but also briefly in Marahanao and also Rio de Janeiro was quite beautiful.  It was a life-changing encounter.  Highlights of my experience were finally learning what it means to have been raised in a Puritanical culture (the neo-Calvinist strains were very salient in my COGIC upbringing, for instance), the discovery of a culture that truly celebrated feminine beauty without making it prurient or pornographic, the discovery of the spirit of Yemanja, who reigns supreme in Bahia (I think, though officially its Obatala).  It was enchanting to experience how thoroughly infused with music and tradition the everyday culture of Bahia is.  The strength and the beauty of African cultural retentions through dress, custom, religion, music, dance, cuisine, etc. was quite impressive.

 

Rather than beauty, which is also [in South Africa] in abundance, I am struck by the cosmopolitan complexity and political energy of South Africa.  I have thoroughly enjoyed my time this far in South Africa, but there are certain difficulties.  For instance, there is the high crime rate.  There is unbelievable poverty and sensational crime in Brazil as well, but in Bahia everyone lives and goes about their business together.  As one Baina told me, ‘we are all going in the ground together, so we might as well live together;’ the poor and downtrodden still have a quality of life and a palpable happiness that is fantastic.  [In South Africa] there is a culture of fear around crime, especially robbery and rape, and it has made everyday living more cautious.  There is not a viable public transportation system, so here I have a car.  That too has made my experiences different.  This is an exciting country and I feel like I am learning so much about what it means to be in the modern world.

 

Have you found much common ground from a musical perspective between Brazil and SA?

 

That is also a difficult question.  In Brazil people are widely knowledgeable about various kinds of music.  They know their folkloric music, their popular music, their classics, and can dance to all of it.  They know music from other countries.  They are very hip that way.  South Africans are also very savvy about different traditions in music.  I don’t think [South Africans] have as widespread emphasis on the folkloric traditions as they do in Bahia, however.  And there is a stronger African American influence in South African culture.

 

I have long contended that South Africa has the deepest, broadest jazz history of any African nation.  Would you agree with that contention?

 

I would definitely agree with your assessment.  In fact, I would go further, and perhaps say [South Africa’s] jazz history is deeper and broader than any nation, save the United States.  It is ironic, for the three nations with the most interesting jazz outside the United States from my perspective are Cuba, Brazil, and South Africa.  In the case of Cuba and Brazil, their interaction with the music is so strong that it has influenced the way we play our own music.  To say, let’s do this Afro-Cuban, or say let’s play a bossa or a samba, all of these things have meaning to American jazz musicians.  I think that South Africa’s influence would be just as profound were it not for the isolation caused by Apartheid.  I might even say one more thing about this, that the South African jazz tradition is more similar to the African American jazz tradition, perhaps because the music signifies in such similar ways for the two peoples.  Also, there are striking similarities in the way African Americans and South Africans entered modernity (what with industrialization0, Christianity, slavery, proletarian exploitation, race-based segregation, etc.

 

Since you are also an educator what’s your sense of the training available to musicians in Brazil and SA who have eventually become professionals?

 

The young South African musicians are extremely well-trained.  I think there is more opportunity for black youngsters in particular for higher education than there is in Bahia.  Black students in higher education in Brazil is virtually non-existant.  With the end of Apartheid, blacks are now more frequently found in tertiary education, including pre-professional music programs.  They are still operating at a disadvantage often because the township schools, where most blacks, Indians, and Coloureds come from, most often do not have formal music programs.  So often you find that black music students are coming to their instruments late, and often are left to learn basically on their own.  This might have inadvertently raised the level of creativity and certainly the degree to which they learn from records rather than from books.  So ironically, a certain disadvantage in one way might have produced advantages in other ways.  In Bahia the folk traditions are still vibrant and ongoing, so through samba schools and through caporeira groups, etc. many people will continue to become proficient in music.  But the jazz musician per se, is probably at a disadvantage educationally in comparison to his/her counterpart in South Africa at this time.

 

How did the Brazil experience affect your own music? And how has South Africa affected your music so far, and how do you suspect that influence to evolve in your perspective as this current residency continues?

 

Brazil affected my whole life.  Musically, it has taught me to be more tolerant and more beautiful.  I think jazz culture can be quite macho at times.  But machismo does not make sense in Bahia, and the music is not as "hard" in the masculine sense as in the United States or even in Cuba.  So, I am learning to value beauty over strength, along with strength, if that makes sense.  I have not had as much time to filter my experiences here in South Africa, but already I am examining the relationships between duple and triple meter somewhat differently due to my exposure to South African jazz musicians.  I am sure there will be much more, as my learning here is constant!

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The Tip: To Label or Not to Label

Last Sunday a remarkable concert of new compositions was presented by DC-based drummer-percussionist Nasar Abadey as part of the in-motion Duke Ellington Jazz Festival (now through June 15; check www.dejazzfest.com).  Nasar preceded his "Diamond in the Rough" suite, which displayed his first writing for strings along with his superb septet, with a symposium essentially on the evolution of how the music we call jazz is played, past, present, current and future generations.  I had the pleasure of moderating this wide-ranging discussion that featured WPFW broadcaster and musician Brother Ah (formerly known as Robert Northern, contributor to some of the greatest recordings of all-time, including the Miles Davis/Gil Evans collaborations, Thelonious Monk at Town Hall, and John Coltrane’s "Africa Brass"), writer-producer W.A. Brower (you’ve seen him for years in the Jazz Tent at New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival keeping the productions orderly and concise or perhaps you read his DownBeat and other writings), and writer-poet A.B. Spellman (scroll down to see his contribution to kick-off The Independent Ear series Ain’t But a Few of Us below).  The venue was the spiffy new Atlas Performing Arts Center, part of the promising "H Street Main Street" corridor in the city’s re-developing N.E. sector.

 

During the soundcheck one of the musicians inquired about whether he should tag his debut recording with a label name or not.  Fact is many DIY musicians are either spacing, overlooking, or dismissing the need for a proper label name on their self-produced recordings.  This is a patent mistake!  Having a label name attached to your self-produced recordings is quite beneficial on several fronts.  First and foremost having a label name — whether it is as simple as your name or initials or something more elaborate you dream up (Dreaming of the Master Records or some-such) — labeling your recordings provides the potential consumer, researcher, or other intrepid soul an additional identifier to locate your recording from among the fields of new records that grow ever more dense with artists releasing their own product.

 

On my weekly radio program the listener calls I engage are generally seeking the name(s) and titles of something I’ve just played.  Being able to provide the listener with a label name is yet another identifier that could prove helpful as they search the ‘net for your record.  Above all, having a label name enables you to build catalog.  Call me old school but I believe that building catalog for your recordings is still an ultimate aim and is definitely a gateway to a potentially beneficial relationship with a distributor — whether that distribution is of the more traditional variety or some electronic vehicle.  Check our conversation below with Greg Osby on his new Inner Circle imprint for reference.  So be sure to label your recordings.  After all, you’ve got nothing to lose and much to gain by such a simple gesture and subsequent registration.

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The Official Word on JazzTimes magazine

This communique was sent out yesterday on the critical state of JazzTimes magazine…

 

For freelance writers and photographers, this means that any new assignments are pending and that payments for previous assignments remain in limbo, as the JazzTimes ownership seeks the necessary financing. I am hopeful, yet not certain, that JazzTimes will resume publishing, but the outcome is out of my hands. Evan and I were included in the staff that was furloughed, but we are still doing what we can to keep the magazine moving ahead. I will provide more information as soon as it’s available.

Thank you for your patience during this difficult time.

Best regards,

Lee Mergner

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Ancient Future the radio program: Playlist for 6/4/09

Ancient Future the radio program hosted & produced by Willard Jenkins airs Thursdays from 5:00-8:00am on WPFW 89.3 FM, Pacifica Radio for the Washington metro area, the 50,000 watt station for Jazz & Justice.

Artist

Tune

Album Title

Label

 

Gerald Wilson Orchestra

In The Limelight

Complete Pacific Jazz Recordings

Mosaic

 

Bobby Hutcherson

Umhh

San Francisco

Blue Note

 

Laika Fatien

What’s New

Misery

BluJazz

 

Thelonious Monk

Teo

Monk

Columbia

 

Miles Davis

Teo

Someday My Prince Will Come

Columbia

 

Eddie Harris

The Shadow of Your Smile

Greater Than the Sum of His Parts

32 Jazz

 

Liz McComb

We Are More

The Spirit of New Orleans

Gvc

 

Nasar Abadey & Supernova

Izit

Mirage

Amosaya

 

Duke Ellington

Pie Eye’s Blues

Blues in Orbit

Columbia

 

Duke Ellington

Jones

The Cosmic Scene

Sony

 

Afro Blue

No More Blues

HUJE ’05

HUJE

 

Kalamu ya Salaam

Rainbows Comee After the Rain

My Story, My Song

AFO

 

Michael Brecker

Midnight Voyage

Tales From the Hudson

Impulse!

 

Soundviews Feature of-the-week

Joe Lovano

Powerhouse

Folk Art

Blue Note

 

Joe Lovano

Folk Art

Folk Art

Blue Note

 

Joe Lovano

Dibango

Folk Art

Blue Note

 

Joe Lovano

Song For Judi

Folk Art

Blue Note

 

New Release Hour

Bobby Sanabria

Kenya

Kenya

Jazzheads

 

Scotty Barnhart

The Burning Sands

Say It Plain

Unity Music

 

Aldo Romano

Prego!

Just Jazz

Dreyfus

 

Frank Wess

You Made a Good Move

Once Is Not Enough

Labeth

 

Tierney Sutton

Then I’ll Be Tired of You

Desire

Telarc

 

contact: willard@openskyjazz.com

 

 

 

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Ain’t But a Few of Us: How black jazz writers persevere

A brief conversation with A.B. SPELLMAN…  the first in a series with African-American writers who chronicle serious music…

 

Despite the historic origins of this music called jazz, a unique development of the African experience in America, the ranks of black critics and journalists covering the music has always been thin.  Black jazz writers have been inspired through the years by the examples of Ralph Ellison, Amiri Baraka (formerly LeRoi Jones), Albert Murray, more recently Stanley Crouch… and few others.  The Jazz Journalists Association has a handful of currently active black writers on its roles.  Major jazz festivals such as Montreal, Monterey, Northsea, and Umbria, which have long been annual congress for jazz writers who generally operate pretty much in splendid isolation, rarely find more than one black writer in the coverage pool. 

 

Your correspondent has been writing about the music from various perspectives since my undergrad years in the early 70s at Kent State University.  In that time I’ve been privileged to have numerous off-the-record conversations with artists who have often questioned why there are so few black jazz writers.  In that spirt we begin a series of conversations posing the same set of questions to black jazz writers on how they got started and their perspective as members of a tiny subset of the fraternity of jazz writers.

 

Our series begins with one of the veterans who several of the forthcoming participants in this series have cited as one of their inspirations, writer-poet A.B. Spellman, namesake of the NEA Jazz Masters (see the 2010 recipients announcement in these pages) annual fellowship for non-performing jazz advocates, and retired longtime program director at the National Endowment for the Arts.  Spellman’s most indelible jazz writing contribution is the valuable and unique book originally titled Four Lives in the Bebop Business, reissued by University of Michigan Press as Four Jazz LivesA.B. is also the proud father of a past artist interview participant in The Independent Ear, oboist Toyin Spellman of the visionary young chamber ensemble Imani Winds.  This is the first in an anticipated bi-weekly series.  Stay tuned…

 

A.B. Spellman

 

What motivated you to write about serious music in the first place?

 

The simple answer is that I discovered that I could write about music and I had the opportunity.  LeRoi Jones introduced me to Dan Morgenstern, who was then the editor of Downbeat [circa 1960s], and he let me write an Introducing Archie Shepp piece and then made me a regular reviewer.  A new and stronger motivation set in with the so-called "New Thing", which was resisted mightily by the critics who had defended bebop.  I’d leave the Jazz Gallery or the Vanguard limp in the knees after having ‘Trane blow my sinuses out only to read in Downbeat how unmusical, even destructive of jazz he was playing, and I could only conclude that either I was tone deaf or those cats were, and I trusted my ear.  So I wrote in self-defense.  I wrote one line in particular that was quoted often "What does anti-jazz mean and who are these ofays who’ve declared themselves the guardians of last year’s blues."

 

I stopped [writing about jazz] because I was frustrated by my limitations.  I didn’t know enough music to do the kind of technical analysis that I thought was needed.  What I was writing seemed to me to be at best journalism, at worst fan mail, so I cut it loose and hoped that some other brothers would step in.

 

When you started on this quest were you aware of the dearth of African Americans writing about jazz?

 

Of course.  There was me, LeRoi (not yet Baraka), some belles-lettres pieces of Ralph Ellison’s and Al Murray’s, and not much else.

 

 

Why do you suppose that’s still such a glaring disparity — where you have a significant number of black musicians making serious music but so few black media commentators on that music?

 

I’m not sure.  There are people who are competent to write sound criticism in the colleges and universities — I’m thinking about folk like those who publish in the Journal of Black Music — but they stick in the academies.  There are more conservatory trained African-Americans now than there ever have been, but they don’t write.  Jazz musicians don’t write much either, and they should.  I was very impressed with George Lewis’ A Power Stronger Than Itself [see our review in The Independent Ear], about the AACM, a book with true depth and scope.  He didn’t leave it to some outsider to write that history, to his great credit.

 

Do you think that disparity or dearth of African American writers contributes to how the music is covered, including why some musicians may be elevated over others and whether that has anything to do with the lack of cultural diversity among the jazz writer fraternity?

 

It certainly does.  This is not to slam the many good white authors who have written about the music; without them there’d be very little documentation at all.  But damn!  This is music that came out of us; this is our synthesis and exposition of our American urban presence, but except for some extremely valuable autobiographies, for the most part intermediated by whites, the people who have lived closest to the experiences of the major makers [of jazz] have been silent.  The opportunity is diminishing as the potential inventory of African-American critics is rising, as the black domination in jazz is declining with each generation, for the jazz training opportunities for school-aged whites by far exceeds those for blacks.

 

Do you ever get the sense that the way and tone of how serious music is covered has anything to do with who’s covering it?

 

All art criticism is subjective, no matter how objective connoisseurs pretend to be.  Put another way, criticism is essentially the defense of taste, and taste is a cop and blow proposition, as we used to say.  A diversity of writers would make for a diversity of opinions, which would give readers choices, which would affect the roster of success.

 

What’s your sense of the indifference of so many African-American oriented publications towards serious music, despite the fact that many African-Americans continue to create serious music?

 

The answer is obvious: the African-American commercial press is out to make money like the rest of the commercial press, and the money is with popular culture.  The not-for-profit black press is small and poorly subscribed.  That’s our fault for not supporting it.

 

In your experience writing about serious music what have been some of your most rewarding encounters?

 

Nothng compares with experiencing John Coltrane live.  I’ve written about this so much tht I’m reluctant to go over it again.  I would also add the following names: Lucky Thompson, Sonny Clark, Fats Navarro, Hassan Ibn Ali, Wynton Kelly, Tina Brooks, Martial Solal…  I’ll try not to wake up with more names on my mind.

 

As a summation of what the music has meant to him A.B. Spellman granted permission to excerpt two separate passges from his brilliant autobiographical poem The First Sixty:

 

bebop saved the 40s, a clear wind

blew jazzbo collins into my home

from his nest in the "purple grotto" deep

in the core of the apple & in walked bud

with bird & diz & fats & monk & max

& all the cats.  the sounds were faint

on my philco.  i had to press my ear

against the music to assemble those cycles

of fifths, flatted to the devil’s interval

those fractured chords, vertiginous changes

& bent arpeggios that swiveled around

in my head & shaped new consciousness

 

bebop was news that my people were moving

 

you can’t scat bop & bow to a redneck…

 

in ’57 i moved to n.y. & caught monk’s return

from brutal exile to the 5 spot.  trane joined him

on the stand with double stopping wilbur ware

no music has ever so joyously inured to itself

such explosively advancing revelation, note to

phrase, tune to set, night to agitated dawn, the ineffable

message those instruments sang to me — not the learning

we parse from text, but the meaning we feel lost & blind

for the lack of, hard & softly blown, full lives compressed

in the blazing moment of the horn.

in such moments i understood the fear of art

its in the sudden departure to places i’d never heard of

when all i came for was a little froufrou

to tack onto the dim lit walls of my consciousness

i did not hear this music so much as it occupied me

pulled me up, eyes closed to the sonic light

brain thrown hard against the back of my skull

in the sharp upward acceleration of more gees

than i could handle.  my suffering silent reason yelled

stop!  this air fires blue hot!  there’s danger in this flight

but instead my mouth gaped in the numinous yes

in the smoky dark, screamed yes monk yes trane yes yes yes

 

how it happened?  imagine john coltrane starting the gig

enclosed in a crystal egg & thelonious dancing

the monk dance around him & trane stammering

his opening lines, a halting brilliance that did not flow

& monk dancing the invocation of swing dance

’til the line coalesced with the geometric burn

the broken sword architecture of lightning

shattered the egg in a storm of jewels

& out stepped john, wailing, this godzilla

tenor player who took me out & out & out

for the next 10 years.  I have heard gould play bach

seen cunningham & fonteyn dance; known

the primal strokes of van gogh & pollock; read

the verse of the masters & all, all have remade me

but no art has so blown my inner spaces clean

so propelled me thru the stages of being

as john coltrane live.  I tried not to miss a note

      — A.B. Spellman, excerpt from "The First Sixty"

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