This year marks the 50th anniversary of NEA Jazz Master Randy Weston‘s opus “Uhuru Afrika.” Originally recorded for the Roulette label in ’59 and subsequently reissued several times as part of the Blue Note family, including most recently as part of Mosaic Records’ Select series, “Uhuru Afrika” is a 4-part suite for 22-piece orchestra (conducted by Paul West), two vocalists and a narrator.  Weston wrote “Uhuru Afrika” in 1959 to celebrate the freedom from colonization of 17 African nations; Uhuru Afrika is Swahili for Freedom Africa.  The great poet and Weston friend Langston Hughes wrote the introductory poem — which was recited for the record date by a UN diplomat in English and Swahili — and NEA Jazz Master Melba Liston wrote the detailed arrangements for a jazz orchestra that included two bassists and a 6-piece percussion section that ranged from African percussion (played by Babatunde Olatunji) to drums from across the diaspora, including NEA Jazz Master Max Roach on marimba.

On Saturday, November 13 at Tribeca Performing Arts Center (at the Borough of Manhattan Community College), Weston triumphantly re-created “Uhuru Afrika” with an ensemble including two masters from the original recording session, trap drummer Charlie Persip and NEA Jazz Master hand drummer Candido, who at 91 nearly stole the show.  Preceding a beautiful reading of Langston Hughes freedom poem, the prelude was provided by the ancient African instruments the balaphone and the kora.

Here’s a photo gallery of that historic evening from the learned eye of photographer Lawrence C. Shelley.

Randy Weston introducing the first movement of “Uhuru Afrika.”

Narrator and banjo player Ayodele Ankhtawi Maakheru reciting Langston Hughes’ freedom poem invocation.  There is no banjo part in the original score but Ayodele was so inspired that during the closing movement “Kucheza Blues” he grabbed his banjo — another ancient African instrument — and stoked the fire.

Kinetic energy source bassist Alex Blake.

Candido nearly stole the show with his hard hands.  The audience exploded in delight after the 91-year old’s first solo.

Randy with vocalist Jann Parker, whose reading of Langston Hughes’ lyric “African Lady” was sublime.

African Rhythms Quintet regulars TK Blue and Billy Harper blowing Weston’s “African Sunrise.”

French Hornist Vincent Chancey and trumpeters Eddie Henderson and James Zollar blowing the grand finale “Kucheza Blues.”

Special thanks to photographer Lawrence C. Shelley for the images

African Rhythms: the autobiography of Randy Weston (Composed by Randy Weston, Arranged by Willard Jenkins; Duke University Press) is available now at your favorite book emporium or online at Amazon.com and other reliable services.

Several weeks ago at a Brooklyn book signing at the MoCADA gallery for native son Randy Weston and our new book African Rhythms (Composed by Randy Weston, Arranged by Willard Jenkins published by Duke University Press; see elsewhere in The Independent Ear) I had the pleasure of meeting author and thespian Karen Chilton.  Most recently she authored the Hazel Scott bio and prior to that co-authored Gloria Lynne’s memoirs with Ms. Lynne.  As we swapped stories about our book odysseys there was remarkable simpatico not only with our respective paths but also with Karen and the other contributors to our ongoing series of conversations with black music writers.  Her participation in this series was a no-brainer.

What’s been your experience writing about jazz and music in general?

Karen Chilton: Extraordinary.  I never set out to write books, much less books about jazz.  When I moved to New York City from my hometown Chicago eighteen years ago, my only intention was to be an actor, to perform in the theater and write for the stage.  My interests were purely in the dramatic arts — theater and film.  The only works I ever hoped to publish were my stage plays.  And while I’ve had the great fortune of doing all I’ve set out to do, my journey has been anything but predictable.  It’s been one surprising turn after the other.  I believe the first twist in the path came when I decided after studying classical piano from ages 5 to 17 at the Chicago Conservatory of Music to cast it all aside, and study Economics and Finance in college.  I still have no reasonable explanation for THAT decision, but I found solace in playwright Edward Albee’s famous quote: “Sometimes it’s necessary to go a long distance out of the way in order to come back a short distance correctly.”

For years I worked as a freelance writer to support my acting habit.  [Editor’s note: now there’s a twist on the usual writer’s path!]  Because I always loved music, especially jazz, I opted to do music reviews and features on musicians.  Eventually, I met a woman who chased me down in Barnes & Noble asking if I knew any women who wrote books about jazz.  I promptly told her I didn’t and pointed her in the direction of the Information Desk.  I think I even made some snide remark like: “Jazz books are written entirely by men, and most of them aren’t even American.”  She turned out to be Gloria Lynne’s publicist.  She gave me her card and asked me to call her if I knew anyone that might be interested in co-authoring Ms. Lynne’s memoir.

At the time I was working a temp job at a major record label that I believed was sure to send me straight to an asylum, so the very next day I called and suggested myself for the job.  I had about five years’ worth of feature articles on all kinds of musicians, from Youssou N’Dour to Jon Lucien to Seal to show as writing samples.  I was initially turned down by the literary agent having had no track record as an author, but six months later, I was called back and offered the gig.  Gloria Lynne chose me.  She liked my writing style and she wanted to tell her story to another Black woman.  That’s how it all began.

It was a baptism of fire.  The writing came easy.  It’s all storytelling to me.  Being an actor and writer are extensions of the same gift, the gift of telling a story well whether it’s on the page or on the stage.  And Gloria Lynne has a fascinating life story which made my creative work a pleasure trip.  The countless hours we spent together talking over her kitchen table were more fun than any two people ought to be allowed to have, but dealing with the rigors of actually getting the book published — the publisher, the agents, the editors, the production team, the publicists — it was quite overwhelming.  Gratification came later.  Much later…

Karen Chilton’s successful collaboration with the distinctively soulful song stylist Gloria Lynne.

Do you feel that being an African American woman posed any impediments particular or even peculiar to your pursuit of writing about black music?

YES.  Well first, for reasons beyond my comprehension, women are typically not expected to know much about music, especially not jazz.  It’s akin to a woman knowing a lot about sports (which I love as well); you’re treading on male-dominated territory.  You’re often treated like an interloper.  I’m speaking in generalizations of course, but those kinds of attitudes do exist.  So it becomes a question of your credibility.  It arises when trying to get interviews with musicians on the front end and trying to get publicity for your work in major music journals on the back end.  In the case of Hazel Scott, it was almost comical because at first editors would ask: Hazel Scott?  Who is SHE?”  Then they’d look at me and say: “Who are YOU?”

While researching the Hazel Scott biography and simultaneously looking for a publisher — which took nearly five years, one editor — a woman — at a very prestigious house seriously questioned my ability to write about the subject.  She suggested that somehow because I was a Black woman, I wasn’t capable of writing about another Black woman.  Absurd, I know.  So what do you do?  Say exactly what’s on your mind and burn that bridge down to a crisp right then and there, or smile politely and leave?  I left.  When my then agent (who was Jewish) and I walked out of the building, I turned to her and said bluntly: “If you and I had switched places and YOU were the author and I was your agent, we might have had a better chance at a deal.”

I am of the opinion that American publishers are exceedingly comfortable with books about African Americans — our culture, our art, our music, our history — being written by non-Black writers.  It’s as if the Black American experience is open to any and all purveyors; everyone gets to have their say about us, unless it is US… well, then watch out!  I can’t think of another group of people in this country whose culture has been co-opted with such regularity; we are constantly being dissected, examined, explained…  It’s so commonplace that being a Black writer documenting the experience of your own people is almost exotic, something new, requiring a different set of rules, a new set of expectations.  To complicate matters further, bias exists within our community as well.  On the flipside, an African American editor — a woman — responded to my [Hazel Scott] book proposal by saying: “This would be a great book IF it was written by someone else.”  Someone else like who?!  So I’ve caught it from both ends.  It’s all very curious.  Now, judging from the number of books being published today by Black writers what I am saying may sound ridiculous to some, but I’m not talking about the final outcome, the ultimate output (or the quality of the output), but about the sheer madness that many Black authors encounter on their quest to find a publisher.  It’s the part of the story that no one gets to read.

Ms. Chilton did indeed persevere and realize her Hazel Scott bio

In writing books on Gloria Lynne and Hazel Scott, did the fact of who you are pose any particular challenges in your quests at getting at the essence of these two great and underappreciated artists?

Fortunately, I felt very much at home writing both books.  By virtue of my own life experience and my being a performer, I intrinsically understood the demands and challenges of their careers.  However, as a biographer, you’re obsessed with the idea of “getting it right.”  It can be an overwhelming thing holding someone’s ‘life’ in your hands as it were, and crafting a narrative that is a truthful reflection.  With Gloria Lynne, of course, I had her there with me if I ever needed more clarity.  It was just a matter of picking up the phone.  With Hazel Scott, it was much more daunting.  There were so few people around to talk to who knew her intimately.  Her running buddies were Dizzy Gillespie and his wife Lorraine, Duke Ellington, Billie Holiday, Lester Young, Mary Lou Williams, Lena Horne…  Luckily, her son Adam Powell lll, was extremely generous, sharing his mother’s memorabilia with me, including her personal journal writings which were the beginnings of the memoir she was working on before her death in 1981.  I also had the pleasure of interviewing people like Mike Wallace (CBS 60 Minutes) who was a lifelong friend of Hazel and her ex-husband Adam Clayton Powell, Jr.; jazz pianist Marian McPartland, Matthew Kennedy (former director of the Fisk Jubilee Singers), Murray Horwitz (co-creator of Ain’t Misbehavin’) among others.

Still, getting interviews and/or gaining the trust of interviewees was probably my most challenging and time-consuming task.  Because I am not affiliated with an academic institution or a major newspaper or magazine, my requests for interviews were declined often, if not ignored completely.  I had to do some extra talking/convincing/cajoling in order to gain access to information.  I certainly couldn’t say I’m an actor who happens to write jazz biographies on the side (I made that mistake once and I’m still waiting for that musician to return my call!).  It was one of my greatest disappointments with the project.  I felt that Hazel Scott deserved better.  If they couldn’t submit to even a 5 or 10 minute conversation for my benefit, surely they could have done it for her.

Why do you suppose the efforts of Black writers chronicling jazz and jazz artists is different from the similar pursuits of others?

I wish I had a coherent answer to this question; something that actually made some sense.  I have several theories, some that I’ve tossed around with other Black writers who write about jazz, but I’ve yet to come to a conclusion that I can feel good about.  Is there a general fear or distrust of writers, a concern of being misrepresented, misquoted, misunderstood?  Of course there are some truly great Black writers who continue to do great work on the subject.  That does not discount the fact, however, that the gathering of research which includes interviews with prominent jazz artists, is not a constant challenge to obtain.  Even among writers, there can be a reluctance to share information.  I don’t know the answer, I wish I did.  The only thing I know for sure is that being Black and being a woman and writing about jazz can cause some real upset.

Any closing thoughts?

It’s an amazing thing being a writer — a gift, a joy, and a blessing.  Spending time documenting the music and the artists that you admire ain’t nothing but love.  And in the end, it’s all about love, isn’t it?  It’s the thing that enables us to bear the brunt of ignorance, arrogance, envy, and apathy that often come with the territory.  Jazz remains the greatest music in the land.  Because the contributions of many of its artists are so gravely overlooked and under-documented it makes completing a work on one of its legends always feel like a victory.  And even if your book lands on the dusty bottom of a bookstore shelf, off in the corner in the back next to the outermost window under the single column dedicated to “Music,” you can always count on that precious handful of people who will seek it out, find it, and love it.  And for them, and for the children, and for the ancestors, we go forth…

Karen Chilton with Randy Weston and The Independent Ear at our MoCADA book signing in Brooklyn for African Rhythms.

Rusty Hassan has a kind of mystery about his look in this photo, but though he is indeed a nuanced gentleman, there seems little mystery about this thoughtful, even-tempered man-about-jazz; he remains one of DC’s go-to guys when it comes to the history of the music and his weekly program on WPFW is a pillar of that station’s programming.  In part two of our virtual conversation Rusty discusses the nuts & bolts of how he assembles his programs.

Programming my show involves selecting a mix of new releases, CDs by artists coming to town, and classic recordings by earlier jazz artists.  I have a black leather backpack that I rotate in recordings as artists come in & out of DC and new and reissue recordings become available.  (As I get older. it becomes more and more tempting to use a slip case as [others] do, but I’m slow to change.)  I will often feature an artist on or around his or her birthday and will certainly mark the passing of a musician.  The recent death of Marion Brown had me searching for the Lps that I brought back from Europe in 1969.  I will have selected some of the music prior to the show but even those selections may change once I get to the studio and do my show.

Saxophonist Marion Brown’s recent passing sent Rusty back to the archives

     I program sets of music mixing the new music with classic jazz.  There is a lot of improvisation in my programming and I like having a lot of music to select from, thus the backpack of CDs.  For better or worse I was a pioneer in playing [consecutive] different versions of a song, frequently mixing in a vocal with an instrumental.  I still may do that in a set, but not as often as I used to.  I almost always include “A Word from Bird” because when I discovered Charlie Parker’s music as a young teenager I found out I was born on the day he recorded “Now’s The Time” andd “Koko,” and I took that as my Zodiac sign.  Unless the recording is by a big band I will announce the musicians on a date.  If identified, soloists from large ensembles will get a nod.  Jazz is primarily a soloist’s art form and [The Independent Ear’s] recent post about the lack of information about musicians on recently released recordings raises issues that are important for the artists on the dates.

     Years ago I had a conversation with the late Felix Grant [one of DC’s hallowed, classic jazz radio voices] about programming jazz on the radio.  We had both come to WDCU at the same time.  He had been on commercial radio for over forty years while I had been on non-commercial public stations for two decades.  He said that he was reveling in the freedom he had in playing cuts that lasted overe six or seven minutes.  He programmed his show, however, the way he had for years on WMAL, using a stop watch and scripting commentary in advance.  I continued to play sets that featured performances lasting twice as long and programmed while doing the show [the art of radio programming improvisation].  We both agreed that it was important to impart information about the musicians and to feature artists that were coming into town.

   The recent posts by Arturo Gomez, Jim Szabo, and Miyuki Williams in this series demonstrate that there is a continuity in jazz radio programming that goes back to what Felix Grant was doing in the 1950s and 60s, and indeed back to what Symphony Sid was doing in the 1940s.  The programmers present new music by artists who need to have their recordings heard by a general audience and to let that audience know that these artists are performing in their communities. 

     Craig Taylor in his comments [in response to previous posts in this jazz radio programmers series] raises interesting and important issues about the state of jazz radio in a changed media and technological environment, but he fails to see the answers to the questions he raised contained within the comments of Gomez, Szabo and Williams.  They all stress the connection to their local communities that are important for the musicians that are performing in those communities.  Sirius XM features great jazz but won’t feature the jazz artist performing at Blues Alley or Twins Jazz this week.  I love listening to my iPod while riding my bicycle; the shuffle or genius function does an incredible job selecting music from the thousands of tunes available, but it won’t let me know who is the tenor soloist on “I’ll Remember April”, nor will it introduce me to something new that I don’t download myself.  And it certainly won’t let me know that Mulgrew Miller is playing with Anat Cohen at the Kennedy Center.  The internet has made music easily available for those seeking it out.  Good jazz radio programmers let their audiences know what to seek out.

     Jazz radio has certainly been hit hard in the 21st century.  There are far fewer stations broadcasting jazz but those that continue to do so play an important function in the survival of the music as a viable art form.  Musicians in New York depend on WBGO to inform listeners about gigs while listeners in Denver will hear their new recordings on KUVO.  I still learn new things about the music from Bobby Hill on WPFW or old things from Rob Bamberger on WAMU.  Arturo Gomez put it very well when he said jazz radio is alive and striving.  Jazz radio is important and relevant because it connects musicians and their music to local communities while reaching a different and potentially world wide audience through internet streaming and podcasts.  The economics of doing so on public, listener supported stations make it difficult but not impossible, still important and not irrelevant.  I am proud to have done my small part in letting listeners in Washington, DC hear the music of artists deserving to be heard and will continue to do so as long as jazz radio is “alive and striving.”

Some years ago the Jazz Journalists Association, as a tribute to friend and colleague the late Harlem jazz writer Clarence Atkins sponsored a group of aspiring African American music writers to attend a journalism conference in California.  I’m happy to say that for the most part they have continued to write particularly on jazz, and in fact two of them — Bridget Arnwine and Rahsaan Clark Morris — contributed to The Independent Ear’s ongoing African American writers’ series (continued with Karen Chilton in this current installment) “Ain’t But a Few Of Us.”  I caught up with Rahsaan at a book signing Randy Weston and I did for our book African Rhythms at Columbia College in Chicago earlier this month (also attended by another of the Clarence Atkins Fellows, jazz broadcaster Michelle Drayton).  

At the time Rahsaan was raving about a brilliant performance he had recently witnessed by NEA Jazz Master Yusef Lateef and his longtime partner, percussionist Adam Rudolph, October 22 in San Francisco.  Here’s what Rahsaan subsequently wrote about that performance, which was particularly significant because it came only a couple of weeks after Lateef observed his milestone 90th birthday.  You gotta admit, blowing saxophones and flutes in a Yusefian manner in one’s 9th decade is quite notable.

Getting to the Other Side    

During one of the impromptu songs that ninety year old Yusef Lateef performed at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco on a Friday night in late October, he began to sing about “Crossing the river and getting to the other side,” and “taking my brothers andd sisters with me.”  Harkening back to spirituals in the confinees of one of America’s great churches — this was where Duke Ellington first premiered his Sacred Music concert — lent an air of hopefulness to an already entertaining set.  With the aid of percussionist Adam Rudolph, Lateef, who performed mostly on tenor saxophone, musette and flute, used the spaciousness and the famous seven-second delay of the Cathedral to the best advantage I’ve heard at these so-called Sacred Space concerts over the years.

     With improvised music totally constructed from horn sounds, beats from conga and djembe, chants and vocals, tones and elongated notes that reverberated off the Cathedral’s vaulted ceilings, this music was perfect for the place and the place ended up being perfect for the music.  One reason why this worked so well this time and maybe not so well for others in this place is because both of these musicians know how to play in — and with — space.  Listening to Adam Rudolph’s measured hits on gong and his nearly silent patient tones on xylophone reminded me of his contributions to the quiet songs of Mandingo Griot Society, with Hamid Drake and Foday Musa Susso back in the ’80s.

     Lateef was one of the first, if not the first, jazz musician to use Eastern instruments in his music.  So to hear this concert was to return to the mode of tunes like “Three Faces of Bilal” from his 1961 Prestige release Eastern Sounds, or “Chandra” from The Diverse Yusef Lateef; quiet, contemplative, nearly meditative music meant to soothe and heal.  Lateef and Rudolph used the space in between sounds to aid the composition, timing, and to let the reverberation fill in where they felt it would work best.  And then Yusef sang, his voice surprisingly resilient for his age.  Still wearing a kufi and traditional African garb, Lateef is still, to this day, true to his life’s intentions and not just artistic intentions.  Then again, to the true artist, those intentions are one and the same. 

— Rahsaan Clark Morris 10/22/10