The Independent Ear

Jazz Radio pt.2

Posted on September 23, 2010 by The Independent Ear

Yes, jazz radio is alive and… perhaps to say ‘well’ would be stretching the point; so let’s suffice to say that jazz radio is alive… and still striving. To prove that we are featuring an occasional series of observations from jazz radio programmers across the country on their experience in the medium and how they program in their particular markets.

This time we reached out to Denver, CO where veteran radio programmer Arturo Gomez holds down the Music Director chair at Denver’s main jazz radio outlet, KUVO. In addition to his radio responsibilities Arturo was called upon to serve as one of his city’s ambassadors of local culture when the mayor appointed him a Commissioner of the Denver Office of Cultural Affairs.

Known as “The Oasis in the City,” KUVO broadcasts at 89.3 FM and serves other sectors of Colorado through local carriage in Breckenridge and Vail. KUVO is Colorado’s first HD FM radio station.

How long have you been programming jazz radio and how did you arrive at your programming position at your current station?

I began as an on-air host in 1989 at WDNA in Miami. In 1992 I was appointed Music Director at KUVO, after which the station streamlined its format to become a predominantly jazz station.

Do you have a particular programming philosophy that guides your efforts, and during the course of a normal week how do you go about planning your programs? What dictates the selections you spin on the air?

My personal philosphy mirrors the policy of jazz89/KUVO/KVJZ [Vail] that was written by my Program Director many years ago. We consider ourselves to be a “full service” jazz station; in other words we cover he entire spectrum of recorded jazz in all of its many splendored variety. From the 1920s to the latest effort. We treat Latin, Brazilian, and World jazz as if it was a trio, big band, vocal ensemble… it’s part of the mix. We include classics as well as the latest releases, though not many of the classic jazzers are doing any more touring.

We have a “pie chart” for our mix; 3 currents (new releases), a classic at the top of every hour, plus another classic in the second half of the hour, 2 vocals — preferably 1 male and 1 female — spaced out every half hour, either one or two Latin/World/Brazilian tunes if time permits. The other choices for the hour are left up to the program hosts. Mostly we fit nine songs in an hour with occasional 10 or eight song houurs. We also have a daily birthday list that could influence the choice of artists played each hour, though not all hosts honor all birthdays.

So what’s up at your station? Give us a shout at willard@openskyjazz.com if you’d like to participate in this occasional series of jazz radio observations.

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Jazz & Self-Determination in Brooklyn

Posted on September 15, 2010 by The Independent Ear

The Independent Ear series of conversations with African American jazz entrepreneurs — classic & contemporary — continues, this time in Brooklyn, NY…

Remembering The East with Jitu Weusi

PART ONE: A jazz fan in development…

One of the revelations of the Lost Jazz Shrines of Brooklyn research project for the Weeksville Heritage Center (see elsewhere on Open Sky Jazz) has been the extensive interviews with key Brooklyn figures. The magnitude of Brooklyn’s mid-20th century jazz history was first brought home in writing African Rhythms, the autobiography of NEA Jazz Master Randy Weston (composed by Randy Weston, arranged by Willard Jenkins; available on Duke University Press in October ’10). Great stories and the light of revealing history has continued to be shed through this ongoing series of Weeksville interviews.

One such saga is that of The East, a pioneering African American cultural institution which rose up in Central Brooklyn in 1969 and was the jazz venue in the borough for several years, among its many extraordinary deeds. My knowledge of The East had been limited to the recordings Pharoah Sanders Live at The East (which point of fact wasn’t actually recorded at The East, but was a studio date in the spirit of Pharoah at The East), and percussionist Mtume’s Alkebu Lan for Strata East, which was indeed recorded during one of the always-spirited jazz nights at The East. There were also enriching and delightful personal experiences at the annual African Street Festival (now known as the International African Arts Festival), which was birthed by The East, but I never had the pleasure of visiting The East’s storied jazz sessions.

The East, which was so much more than a jazz performance venue, is a classic example of the kind of African American self-determination that flowered in the late 1960s-early 1970s as bright flowers of the civil rights struggle. To gain insights into the origins and development of The East there was no better place to start than with one of the historic figures of post-60s public education, politics and culture in Brooklyn, Jitu Weusi. We interviewed Jitu, a tall, gray-haired, unassuming eminence on a warm, late-spring morning at his current office at The Central Brooklyn Jazz Consortium on Fulton Street, where he serves as chairperson. This first of two parts will detail Jitu’s early history with jazz; part two will detail the development of The East, just part of our wide-ranging interview which will eventually be available as part of the Weeksville archives. Like so many of us, Jitu’s interest in jazz grew through the oral tradition.

Jitu Weusi (center in tie & glasses) celebrating an event at the 6th annual Central Brooklyn Jazz Festival with among others Brooklyn Borough President Marty Markowitz (to Jitu’s left)

Willard Jenkins: What are your earliest memories of jazz music?

Jitu Weusi: I was about 12 years old and my cousin Charles Morris had a newstand. I was the first born of my generation and he called my mother and said ‘I want Leslie” — that was my name until I changed it — ‘to work at the newstand on Saturdays.’ So that started a new era in my life, going down to the newstand on Saturdays.

Every Saturday morning I would get up about 7am and be out of the house by 8; by 8:30 I was at the newstand and I would be there until about 6:30-7pm. I had a number of tasks to do: in those days you prepared your Sunday papers with the various sections on Saturdays; so I would put together the Daily News, the Times, and the Tribune. The main news section usually came about 8pm on Saturday night and you just inserted them in there and the papers were ready to be sold. The newstand was located right on the corner of Fulton and Franklin. Fulton and Franklin at that time was a very, very hot corner. It was hot for two reasons — Ebbets Field [legendary home of the Brooklyn Dodgers] and Coney Island; you got the train to go to Ebbets Field and Coney Island at Fulton & Franklin. So people would come out of that subway and make it to the elevated line upstairs and get those trains. So from March-October there was a lot of traffic. That was a very trafficked area anyway; blacks had just started to move in that area.

Across from the newsstand, on the southeast corner was a record store called Sam the Record Man. Now Sam the Record Man, like all good record stores, had this loud outdoor [sound] system and they used to play records all day long. Many of these records I had never been exposed to before. It was my first time being exposed to people like Ruth Brown, Fats Domino… a lot of the early progenitors of rhythm & blues; but also he would play jazz: King Pleasure, Charlie Parker, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald… he played different vocalists as well as instrumentalists. After awhile I began to know who was who and what their tunes were. My cousin and his brother — they were the two male figures that operated the newsstand — my cousin Charles Morris was the oldest,, he was a disabled vet and it was under his auspices, his disability, that he was able to get the newsstand. His brother, Leroy Morris, worked with him. Leroy’s nickname was Lefty, and he was very athletic, and he knew all the jazz guys; he knew [Brooklyn drummer] Willie Jones, Max [Roach]…

WJ: This is Lefty Morris the basketball player? He talked Randy Weston into going up to the Berkshires to “escape” Brooklyn.

JW: That’s right, he knew all the jazz guys… He knew [drummer-dancer] Scoby Stroman, Willie Jones, Max Roach… these guys used to come by the newsstand all the time, even if he wasn’t there. I was “youngblood”… [it was] ‘hey youngblood, what’s happening man…’ Like I said, I was 12-13 years old. They were glad to see that I was halfway alive, halfway awake… I’d always been into reading the newspapers and I knew who was who, like Mao Tse Tung, Stalin… If they’d given me a current events quiz I could whiz through it because I knew people, I knew figures. They used to always tease Lefty, ‘yeah man, I came by and youngblood was there and we laid out there and talked about world politics for awhile…’ So that’s when I had my sort of baptism to the music and to the community.

A third thing I remember during that period was, my cousins Lefty and Charles’ sisters, they were like in their early 20s. At my 13th birthday they took me to the New York Paramount to see a stage show and it was an all-jazz stage show. I remember it was Count Basie and Joe Williams, Sarah Vaughan and Teddy Wilson, George Shearing… it was about 3 or 4 acts. I remember that show vividly; it was the first time I’d seen a big band [Basie], they swung pretty heavily. I remember Joe Williams and his blues singing… I enjoyed myself and learned a lot about the music.

During my teens I really didn’t get into too much related to jazz. I guess I was like everybody else, I was into the R&B craze, the stage shows, Frankie Lymon & the Teenagers and all that kind of stuff. At about 17 I was working in the camps upstate and I started listening to jazz much more often; I started buying a few more records.

Who were you listening to then and whose records were you buying?

JW: I was buying Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers; I remember “Blues March,” this was the Messengers where he had Bobby Timmons, Lee Morgan, Wayne Shorter, Jymmie Merrritt… And I was listening to Horace Silver, “Senor Blues” and his different compositions. Those were the opening, teenaged years of listening to records.

Then I remember that I had a little girlfriend when I was about 19; she used to live in the Dunbar Houses at 150th Street and 7th Avenue [Harlem], and her mother was very, very strict; like 12 at night you had to go, ‘she gotta go to church in the morning, she gotta do this, gotta do that… 12:00 you gotta hit the road young man.’ I found this place right at 155th and 7th Avenue called Brankers, a music bar.

What was happening at Brankers was really prostitution, but I didn’t know all that. I couldn’t see all that. Brankers was like a meeting spot where all these guys would come and hook up with their lady friends and go upstairs. But in between, they had live music downstairs; they had Kenny Burrell, Grant Green, Shirley Scott… these trios; it usually was an organ player, a guitar player, and a drummer or an organ player, a saxophone player and a drummer. I’d go to Brankers at 12:30 and I could sit there until 2am listening to music. I could buy a beer and nobody would bother you; get out there, catch the train and go home. That became another thing that introduced me to the music.

In the summertime I used to go up to the Catskills area to work in these camps. When I was about 20 I went to this camp called Wingdale on the lake. At some point during that summer this guy named Bill Tatum became the entertainment director of the camp and we became friends. After the summer he told me to keep in touch, he was going to get me some more work. When I called him he told me he was working at Wells’ upstairs room on 113th & 7th Avenue, home of chicken & waffles. I had to go down and get my cabaret card and he got me a job working at Wells. Wells was good to me as a work spot, and I also stayed close to the music. They played a lot of Dakota Staton, Gloria Lynne, and all that kinda stuff. But every now and then they’d have a trio, so I heard more live music too. Of course now I’m getting older and I know the different radio stations, I’m listening to Symphony Sid. By that time, I was maybe 20-21, I had begun to dabble in Miles Davis, Coltrane, a little Cannonball Adderley, etc. I got so absorbed I remember on my 20th birthday I took this girl to the Five Spot to see the opening of Ornette Coleman. Now my musical tastes are broadened and I’m into a wider range of artists.

One particular night we went down to the Village Gate to see somebody. While I was there I heard this woman manager say ‘I need some waiters…’ I made my way back to her and said I used to work in Wells upstairs room in Harlem. She asked if I had a cabaret card, I said yeah, she said ‘you’re hired.’ The next day I started working at the Village Gate and that was golden! I saw everybody: Nina Simone, Thelonious Monk… I not only saw everbody, but I got to meet everybody, guys I had listened to, like Art Blakey… I found out that some of them lived in Bedford-Stuyvesant, like [bass & oud player] Ahmed Abdul-Malik. He would play with Herbie Mann and after the set he would say to me ‘youngblood, you goin’ to Brooklyn, come on, I’ll give you a ride’ and he would take me home. That was a period in which I really became a solid member of the jazz fraternity.

Bassist-oud player Ahmed-Abdul Malik played with Randy Weston, Thelonious Monk and Herbie Mann among many others.

What was happening jazz-wise in Brooklyn at that time?

Brooklyn had a lot of things going on club-wise. When I worked at the newsstand the Putnam Central Club was hot. But I was 13; I used to hear Lefty and them talk about the PCC, Tony’s on Grand Avenue… I remember one time I tried to go to The Continental [Brooklyn jazz club], and I looked in there and who did I see but my cousin, a traffic policeman. Here I am peeping in the door and he’s sitting in the back there, so I got the message: ‘don’t mess around!’ Yes, there was a very active jazz scene in Brooklyn during that period.

When you became of age to frequent the clubs, what was the Brooklyn jazz scene like then?

When I was 21, about 1960, the scene was not bad, there were still some clubs that we could go to, key among them was The Blue Coronet. I was a frequent visitor there, esepcially when I started teaching — which was about ’62. We had a little crew of men and women who worked in the schools and we would call each other [and ask] ‘who’s at The Coronet tonight? Let’s go down there.’ The Blue Coronet was the top [Brooklyn] club at that time. La Marchal had sort of come and gone. It wasn’t a prominent club even though Freddie [Hubbard] and [Lee Morgan] made a record [Night of The Cookers] there and gve it some glory.

The Continental had come and gone too, their best years were in the 50s. Tony’s was there, but the PCC had closed and changed ownership. Rusty’s Turbo Village had regular music. You had a lot of bars [in Brooklyn] and every now and then they’d have somebody there: Berry Brothers, Tip Top, Monaco…

So as you evolved as a fan of the music, how did you come to escalate your involvement to the point where you became an activist and even a cultural entrepreneur?

I graduated from Long Island University in June 1962 and I became a teacher in September 1962. I became interested in the music not only from an enjoyment perspective, now I became interested in it from an educational perspective. I did experimental things like play different music in my classes and kids would tell me they had never heard any music like that. I played Olatunji’s Drums of Passion in my class and it was a heavy turn-on; ‘wow, what’s that, where did that come from, who’s that?’

So I saw that the music had a lot of educational value, turning on the youngsters to various sounds, various performers. Oscar Brown Jr. was another person I used in my classes, different sides that he made: “Dat ‘Dere,” “Signifyin’ Monkey,” “Bid ‘Em In”… So I now thought of ways to use the music as a motivator in the education of youngsters, especially in the area of social studies. Now the music became a valuable kind of tool, more than just my listening; now I listened for different purposes and different meanings.

My own repertoire continued to broaden, my collection continued to broaden… I remember at a certain time I was exposed to the music from “Black Orpheus,” this brought me into contact with the African population of Brazil and their story. I remember I took a class to see “Black Orpheus” and [the students’] whole reaction to seeing these black people speaking [Portuguese], and having a different kind of culture… It sparked a whole lot of questions when we got back to school: ‘…How’d they get there, what language were they speaking…?’

[For me] The music now became [sociological] and worldly, universal… not just located in the United States, [but] as a universal commodity, all over the place; I began traveling different places. I remember my first experience, around 1966, going to Newport to the jazz festival. I could have never stayed in Newport, because the money to stay in Newport was way up there. So we ended up staying in a place called Fall River, Massachusetts. I didn’t know it at the time, but places like Fall River and New Bedford [MA] were places that basically had an African-based population from runaway slaves that intermarried with a lot of the Portuguese that lived in those areas. And there was a very strong kind of cross-fertilization between those communities and the African community, so when I came up there to stay for Newport [Jazz Festival] I found a lot of people that were very supportive and very glad to have us stay there. All of that helped to broaden me and broaden my understanding of the music and the people, and the backgrounds and how it fit in.

I began to see this music in a more historical context. My mother used to listen to people like Louis Jordan, she told me about Chick Webb and different people like that. Now, by the late 60s all of this begins to tie together, like a historical pattern that’s beginning to develop [for me]. Now I’m beginning to see this [music] in a historical, sociological, philosophical context, and I’m beginning to understand that [jazz] is a revolutionary music, it’s a music of an oppressed people that has sort of guided a movement over the years.

By the mid-60s I became active in political activities: school struggles, around the struggles to decolonize public education. We used phrases like “community control,” but it basically dealt with the whole question of colonial educational pespectives. I belonged to an organization then called the African American Teacher’s Association and we put pressure on the board of education to open up the whole school [curriculum] and become more accepting of different cultural perspectives. When I came into teaching they gave us some books and some curriculum outlines to follow, and most of that was white. Like they used to say in the old days, the only two [black folks] they mentioned were George Washington Carver and Booker T. Washington… that was the full extent of our history.

Now I’m beginning to deal with Crispus Attucks, Phyliss Wheatley, the Louisiana Purchase of 1803, Toussaint L’Overture and the Haitian revolution… I’m dealing with a whole broad kind of struggle of Africans for their freedom and independence. In the midst of all this is the music. Now my whole thinking begins to take on new dimensions.

I was part of the group that used to listen to [jazz radio hosts] Ed Williams and Del Shields on WRVR; that was our religion; we had to get home in time to listen to them because of all the information that was dispensed on those two shows. Our music and our politics now became more toward the same track.

Next: The birth of The East, and how jazz was an integral part of that historic font of black culture and education.

For more information on the Weeksville Heritage Center visit www.weeksvillesociety.org; to learn more about the Lost Jazz Shrines of Brooklyn project email research@weeksvillesociety.org.

Bridging the Asian Connection

Posted on September 10, 2010 by The Independent Ear

One of the more fascinating aspects of ancient Chinese cultural history is the distinct African connection of the Shang Dynasty. Traversing the centuries to the 21st century, one musician who has consistently made that connection in the modern world, and who has engaged elements of ancient Chinese music culture in the way he views jazz music and the art of improvisation, is pianist-composer Jon Jang. Encountering Jon Jang is always stimulating; he’s a deeply thoughtful man who also has an enormous thirst for viewing African American culture through the lens of his Chinese upbringing and his life in California, and vice versa. Always a man of deep conviction who has eagerly and successfully collaborated with jazz masters ranging from the ancestor Max Roach to his contemporary James Newton, and who always seems to be juggling any number of intriguing projects, I sought Jon out with some questions recently.

What has so motivated you throughout your career to bridge elements of your Chinese cultural heritage with jazz music and the art of the improvisers?

When I was an undergraduate student at the Oberlin Conservatory of Music during the mid 70s, Professor Wendell Logan of the African American Music Department was my mentor. [Editor’s note: Dr. Wendell Logan, who founded and chaired the Oberlin jazz program, passed on to ancestry last June after battling cancer.] Dr. Logan’s African American music history course had a profound impact on me when he introduced our class to the works of Duke Ellington‘s “A Tone Parallel to Harlem” and William Grant Still’s “Afro American Symphony.” These works valorize the struggles and contributions of African American people.

Dr. Wendell Logan

Morover, the course covered a broader ground than “jazz,” a changing tradition that must always be traced back to West Africa and the auction blocks of slavery in the United States. One of the few books we were required to read was Blues People by LeRoi Jones, now known as Amiri Baraka. I began to gain an understanding about the changing music tradition and its connection to social history.

Dr. Logan’s African American music history course inspired me to recover a history and music tradition that has been silent: Chinese America. Since then, the trajectory of my musical and life journey has been to compose works to valorize the contributions of Chinese Americans. Commissioned and performed by the Sacramento Philharmonic Orchestra and the Oakland East Bay Symphony, my work, “Chinese American Symphony,” pays tribute to the Chinese laborers who built the first transcontinental railroad in the United States during the 19th century. Not only is it “literally” inspired by William Grant Still’s “Afro-American Symphony,” there is an inherent working class sensibility in the title itself.

W.E.B. DuBois and Paul Robeson inspired me to search for Chinese “sorrow songs” or folk songs in which I recovered later in life. I also began to learn about the changing music tradition of Chinese bittersweet melodies such as the “Flower Drum Song,” a beggar’s song from the Ming Dynasty, and the “Butterfly Lovers Song” from the Shaoxing Opera, the first all woman Chinese opera company during the 20s. I “Americanized” these Chinese folk songs into new works of mine, becoming the musical blood of an American-born Chinese composer.

For example, if we examine my work “Variation on a Sorrow Song of Mengjiang Nu” or sometimes called “New Beginnings,” the story ends with a woman killing herself in resistance to marrying an emperor who killed her husband. The woman, Mengjiang Nu, leaps into the sea and transforms into a silver fish. By linking it with African American spirituals such as “Wade in the Water” and “Deep River,” water symbolized freedom. I remember playing a recording of the traditional Chinese melody from Jiangsu Province for Max Roach and he became very moved by the feeling.

In my work, I added a bridge section based on Max Roach’s “Lonesome Lover” because it not only worked musically but also in terms of the whole notion of freedom: “Take me back where I belong.” Max told me that he and Abbey Lincoln had completely different perspectives when they recorded “Lonesome Lover.” Max told me that he was making a political statement and said that Abbey interpreted it as a love song. With me, it was clearer that “Lonesome Lover” artistically and politically complimented the [Roach] works “The Dream/It’s Time” on the politically provocative Chattahoochi Red recording, in reference to the dead bodies of young African American men found near the Chattahoochi River in Atlanta, GA.

From the unexpected passing of my father when I was two years old to being confused about the status of my surname as a descendent of a “paper son,” which was an act of resisitance against the Chinese Exclusion Act, the trajectory of my whole life has been about discontinuity and recovery, which is very similar to the modes of regeneration, new beginnings and symbolic transformation found in many of the Chinese folk songs such as “Butterfly Lovers Song” or “Mengjiang Nu.”

Are you familiar with the historic African presence in China during the Shang Dynasty and do you find that fairly unknown part of China’s history to be ultimately inspiring to your work in any way?

Yes, I am quite familiar with this. About twenty years ago during the early 90s, I first stumbled across the African presence in China in a book by W.E.B. DuBois called The World and Africa: An inquiry into the part which Africa has played in world history. Seven years later when James Newton and I were collaborating on a work called “When Sorrow Turns to Joy – Songlines: The Spiritual Tributary of Paul Robeson and Mei Lanfang,” James gave me a book by Cheikh Anta Diop called Great African Thinkers which also supported the African presence in China and included a photo of black African human statue figures in China! In both DuBois and Diop’s articles, these people were described by a Chinese source called Chou as “diminutive, black and oily skin.”

Talk about your latest projects, including your collaborations with master pipa player Min Xiao Fen, who has previously collaborated with Randy Weston and Mor Thiam.

Min Xao Fen

The San Francisco Arts Commission awarded me a grant to compose “Angel Voices – Rhapsody from Angel Island Poetry,” a work for poet and chamber jazz ensemble. The work will feature my ensemble Unbound Chinatown and be scored for pipa (Chinese lute) performed by Min Xao Fen; clarinet/soprano saxophone/bass flute; piano; double bass and multiple percussion. There will also be poems of “sorrow” and “defiance” performed by Genny Lim selected from Chinese, Japanese, and Russian Jewish immigrants who were detained on Angel Island during 1910-1940 in the San Francisco Bay Area. SFJazz will present this work on Sunday, October 24 at 3pm at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music as part of the San Francisco Jazz Festival. Collaborating in the presentation will be the Angel Island Immigration Station Foundation, which is commemorating the Centennial of the opening of the Immigration Station throughout 2010.

I previously worked with these poems (which are translated in the landmark book Chinese Immigrants on Angel Island by Genny Lim, Him Mark Lai, and Judy Yung) in my works “Island: the Immigrant Suite No. 1” for the Jon Jang Octet featuring Min Xao Fen on pipa and “Island: the Immigrant Suite No. 2” for string quartet and a (pre-recorded) Cantonese Opera singer that was commissioned by the Kronos Quartet. I was taken with the spirit of the poetry in which detainees on Angel Island waiting for processing by U.S. immigration authorities express both feelings of lament and defiance with regard to their treatment. Within my efforts to create works that reflect on the history of Americans of Chinese descent, this sense of lament balanced with defiance is a crucial source of “creative tension” that informs my approach to compositional narrative.

The major departure in this new work will be my exploration of poetry from Japanese and Russian Jewish immigrants on Angel Island. This calls for interpretation of the significance of Angel Island beyondd the experience of Chinese immigrants to recast the multicultural character of the experience on the island.

One of my goals is also to compose five symphonic works. My second symphonic work, “Symphony No. 2: Echoes from the Grand Canyon,” will be a 30-minute three movement work for orchestra and Native American flute. The work will commemorate the collision of two commercial airplanes over the Grand Canyon on June 30, 1956. All 128 passengers and crew aboard on United and TWA died, including my father. This day transformed aviation history, which led to an overhaul of the nation’s antiquated air traffic control system and the establishment of the Federal Aviation Administration by Congress. For this new work, it is very important to note that both Hopi and Navajo tribes recognized that all these people had died on sacred grounds. They both held 24-hour prayer vigils for the victims.

Similar to Olivier Messiaen’s “Des Canyons Aux Etoiles,” which was inspired by the canyons of Utah and Don Pullen’s powerful works on his last recording, Sacred Common Ground, there will be a strong spiritual aspect to “Echoes from the Grand Canyon.” The collision of the two airplanes over the vast and stunning beauty of the Grand Canyon that left ashes of human remains on sacred grounds creates a powerful image. It speaks to the universal truths of mortality, fragility of human life, a survival test of the unknown dangers behind the beauty of nature and spirituality. I hope and pray God will help lead mee to another place with this new work.

You can catch up with Jon Jang and his deeply spiritual work, as well as his various projects and recordings (including his landmark Beijing Trio recording with Max Roach at www.jonjang.com. In addition to his October 24, 2010 premier of the Angel Island work at the San Francisco Jazz Festival, Jon will be performing as part of the Asian American Music Festival 2010 (broadened from the former Asian American Jazz Festival) in Los Angeles on October 16 in solo piano and at the Japanese American National Museum (369 E. First Street).

The Asian American Music Festival: October 15-17, 2010 at the Japanese American National Museum, 369 E. First Street in L.A.

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The Best in Jazz Radio

Posted on September 2, 2010 by The Independent Ear

Count me as one who still believes firmly in the sanctity of jazz radio. What constitutes an effective weekly jazz radio program? How do those charged with that responsibility make it happen? We’d like to hear from others around the jazz radio dial who’d like to weigh in on the subject. Either weigh in at the COMMENTS section below, or be in touch at willard@openskyjazz.com.

Despite the shrinking jazz radio universe, there are still a number of outstanding weekly jazz radio broadcasters out here. Two of my favorites who come immediately to mind are Jim Szabo, who has been on-air at WRUW, broadcasting from Case-Western Reserve University to the Cleveland area, for closing in on 40 years with his “Down By the Cuyahoga” show. Another is from my home station, WPFW in DC. If its Sunday afternoon on WPFW it must be time for “A Sunday Kind of Love” with Miyuki Williams. Each brings a great deal of joy, care, and sheer knowingness to their weekly tasks. So I thought I’d start this ball rolling by pitching a couple of questions at Jim and Miyuki. Szabo was typically expansive, Williams was succinct and brief.

One very salient point to keep in mind: these are both volunteer programmers, neither has been paid for what is obviously a labor of love. All for jazz! And each has engaged in extensive efforts at bringing live performances to their respective communities. Jim Szabo was one of the founding members of the old Northeast Ohio Jazz Society, and Miyuki Williams is currently working on a gala 70th birthday party/concert performance in DC for her friend, baritone saxophonist Hamiet Bluiett.

Both are exceptionally skilled interviewers and each has mastered the art of the artist tribute. Evidence: last April Charlie Haden was the artist-in-residence at our 31st annual Tri-C JazzFest. On the Friday evening of Charlie’s residence, some hours after we had screened Haden’s superb film “Rambling Boy”, Szabo arranged to have Charlie as a guest on his show, which resulted in a wide-ranging interview plus music selections from Haden’s rich career.

A few weeks ago Miyuki Williams learned on the Saturday evening before her noon Sunday show of the passing of Abbey Lincoln. She quickly marshalled Professor Acklyn Lynch, an old and dear friend of Abbey in DC for a beautiful and touching show in remembrance of Ms. Lincoln’s singular artistry. Additionally Miyuki has specialized in salting her jazz selections with informative interviews with playwrights, actors and theatre people from DC’s vital theatrical community.

How long have you been programming jazz radio and how did you arrive at your programming position at your current station?

Jim Szabo: I got involved with WRUW, the station of Case Western Reserve University, when I became an undergraduate there in 1973. After graduation, they said I could hang around if I wanted to. That was 37 years ago.

Miyuki Williams: About 31 years ago on a Monday night I was driving on Minnesota Avenue listening to WPFW 89.3 FM. Jerry Washingon, better known as “The Bama” was on the air. He proceeded to miscue songs, start something then change his mind and play something else, and start a cut from the middle of the song. I guess some people complained so he said, ‘if you think you can do this call me and maybe we can get you a show.’ I am not sure where I summoned the nerve or courage from but when I arrived at my destination, I called him from a pay phone and asked if he was serious. He said yes and invited me to come to his Sunday program. I arrived at the station at 7th and H Street at the agreed upon time and met him.

It was like love from the first. I made the committment to return weekly, he promised to train me. I started assisting him first with phones, then with engineering, and finally he would force me to program. When he thought I was ready he had me cover his show and asked the station admin to have me substitute for others. Eventually I got a show right after his Sunday program. At one point I was slated for Monday mornings, and finally moved back to Sundays.

JS: Many factors come into play when planning my programs. The first is an overwhelming desire to play new releasees. This gives the musicians on the current scene a chance to be heard — Lester Bowie called jazz “musical research,” and I think that it’s important to show what’s happening now. I will get to the station a few hours prior to the program, and set about previewing the new releases. So I don’t know specifically what I will play until just before airtime; I let the sounds of the new releases get my imagination going.

The second factor is to aim for my programming goal: “have 100% of the listeners like 75% of what I play.” I will typically play a wide range of jazz styles within my (3 hour) program: beat-oriented jazz through straight ahead to the freest of expression; small groups, singers, and big bands. I try to design an “arc” across the three hours, stretching the traditional musical boundaries of melody, harmony, and rhythm as the show progresses. If a listener is comfortable with only a subset of the styles in the jazz universe, my 75% goal will hopefully have them keep listening to other styles that may expand their pallett. My program is usually placed in the schedule sandwiched between shows that primarily feature rock music, so my choices for first and last cuts try to smoothen the transition.

A corollary to the second factor: the “like 75% of what I play” extends to me as well. I definitely play jazz that I personally do not like.

The third factor I use for programming is the calendar of upcoming area jazz events. I will plan features for visiting artists, and sometimes the artist’s visit sparks a theme for the entire program. In the summer of 2008 the SMV tour stop of bass players Stanley Clarke, Marcus Miller, and Victor Wooten generated the idea of a show called “Jazz from the Low Frequenies”; I played jazz featuring tuba, bass saxophone, baritone voice, and more.

The fourth programming factor is also a calendar, but a calendar of jazz history. If a particular artist has (or would have had) a birthday on the day of my show, I may put together a short tribute. If the anniversary of a significant jazz recording or event occurs on the day, I may do the same. And if, unfortunately, an important jazz artist has passed away within the past week, I may devote some or all of the program to a proper send-off.

My show is done live, so I can juggle these factors in various combinations right up to the start of the program.

MW: My philosophy is to play good music, to provide a soundtrack for whatever is going on Sundays. I imagine the audience is reading the Washington Post or New York Times, going to/coming from church service, preparing Sunday dinner, working in gardens, on computers, trying to recuperate from the week, preparing for what is comking up.

I know the audience is smart, knowledgeable, and busy. I try to provide them with information of what is going on in the community, especially music and other performing arts, but cover whatever groundd that moves me. Music selections may be about upcoming performances, birthdays, new releases, holiday or significant current events. I try to incorporate at least one local performer a week. I try to communicate the best of myself from a place of love.

If you’re a radio programmer and would like to participate in this ongoing dialogue, hit me back at willard@openskyjazz.com.

In the on-deck circle for next time: Arturo Gomez. KUVO (Denver, CO)

Posted in General Discussion, Radio | 2 Comments

Summer 2010 taking a toll on jazz ranks

Posted on August 18, 2010 by The Independent Ear

The summer of 2010 has been a melancholy one in terms of friends and jazz warriors passing on to ancestry. Last weekend’s loss of Abbey Lincoln, and prior to that her compadre Hank Jones were well-noted. Good friend and longtime Randy Weston African Rhythms and Basie band trombonist Benny Powell’s passing, though at the ripe age of 80, was a bit more stunning because Benny had not been the victim of the slow and gradual decline that seemed to befall Abbey and Hank, and had only recently gone in for what seemed to be a fairly routine medical procedure, from which he never recovered. Benny received a beautiful and well-deserved send-off last month at St. Peters in New York, appropos such a true gentleman and great jazz contributor.

Coming right on the heels of Abbey Lincoln’s passing was the ascension of the great photographer Herman Leonard, at 87. It had been such a pleasure getting to know Herman and re-introduce myself to his extraordinary work back in ’92 when Gilbey’s Gin collaborated with the National Jazz Service Organization on a national tour of Herman’s work. Who could ever forget his iconic images once encountered. Herman was a man blessed with not only an extraordinary eye and ear for great jazz, but also with a true zest for life, never losing that warm twinkle in his eye. I remember encountering him in more recent years hungrily shooting images at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. His loss of stock images from the flood that devastated New Orleans post-Katrina seemed to deal him a particularly hard blow, hastening his relocation to the west coast, where he lived out his final years on the planet.

Herman Leonard’s iconic image of Dexter Gordon

Your correspondent in high cotton, with Herman Leonard and two great masters, James Moody and Ray Brown

The weekend prior to the passing of Abbey Lincoln and Herman Leonard saw the passing on to ancestry of one less sung but no less a contributor to this music. On August 6 New Orleans lost a true jazz warrior with the passing of trumpeter-educator Clyde Kerr Jr. During my 16-month 2007/08 residency in New Orleans one of the great pleasures of that stay was being engaged by trumpeter Ed Anderson for a series of oral history interviews for a Dillard University project. Among those interviewees was Clyde Kerr Jr. When we sat down in his comfortable Dumaine Avenue home just around the corner from City Park in the Mid-City neighborhood, it was immediately as if with a friend of 30 years or more. Always quick with a laugh, Clyde Kerr was always a pleasure to be around. Evidence of his trumpet prowess can be heard on the superb recording “This is Now”, released last year through the generosity of the Jazz Foundation of America.

Clyde Kerr Jr.

I know I’m not alone in relishing annual trips to the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival to sample the prowess of exceptional artists otherwise not so readily available on other stages. Such was the case with Clyde Kerr Jr., who could often be heard alongside the free jazz master saxophonist Edward “Kidd” Jordan. In addition to This is Now!, Clyde leaves an extraordinary teaching legacy; in fact his last public stint was as a stalwart teacher at Jackie Harris’ annual Louis Armstrong Jazz Camp this summer, where he toiled tirelessly mere days before his passing, despite the fact that he’s been in ill health for over a year. Among those who benefited from Clyde Kerr Jr’s wisdom are trumpeters Nicholas Payton, Irvin Mayfield, Christian Scott, and Troy “Trombone Shorty” Andrews. Wynton and Branford Marsalis likewise benefited from Clyde’s tutelage. Clyde Kerr Jr. was one of New Orleans many music griots, passing down the legacy to succeeding generations.

A native of the Treme neighborhood of New Orleans, now famous from this year’s HBO series and fabled as one of, if not THE, oldest African American neighborhoods in the U.S., Clyde reflects that upbringing in his closing composition “Treme” on This is Now!. Pick up that gem online at the Louisiana Music Factory. My last memory of Clyde was several months ago on a trip to the Crescent City for a NEA Jazz Masters “Live” site visit of a Phil Woods residency at the CAC. I called Clyde on the way in from Louis Armstrong Airport because he’d previously informed me that his long-awaited first release was finally ready. So the first stop in town, before the obligatory fried oyster ‘po boy from Parasol’s or checking into my hotel, was Clyde’s crib on Dumaine Street. He greeted me supported by a walker, which gave me pause, but nothing about his attitude suggested anything but the usual joie de vivre. Clyde Kerr Jr. left us all too soon, at the age of 67 on August 6.