Abdullah Ibrahim (formerly, Dollar Brand, b. 1934) is a respected South African pianist and composer. I return to his body of work for two things: its strong connection to Ellington and its priority for pleasant, folk-like melodies.
During the 1980s his excellent, four-horn group, Ekaya (meaning, home), dedicated its music to the people of South Africa and the anti-apartheid movement. The group’s second album, Water from an Ancient Well, included “Manenberg Revisited” a version of his popular 1974 original. Read up a little on the tune’s history, and you’ll see why this gem is relevant today. Listen to “Manenberg Revisited” to appreciate the power of a simple melody during times of protest.
Like it and want another? Try “Banyana,” from Children of Africa, 1976.
How Long Has This Been Going On?
An apt title for our times, huh. This seems to have been going on a long time!
But here’s a recommendation for your pandemic listening, prompted by my rereading selected reviews in Gary Giddins’ Rhythm-a-ning (1986.) Giddins highly recommended a new release by Sarah Vaughan on Norman Granz’s Pablo label, titled How Long Has This Been Going On? (1978.) Listening to the album is a delight; listening is delicious! Vaughan’s wonders and flaws are on display here, in a particularly soulful setting, backed by top-drawer and sensitive musicians. My favorite cut is a slow version of “My Old Flame,” accompanied only by Joe Pass. The album is available on iTunes and Amazon Music.
Why Miles?
Another kind of music I’m listening to during pandemic is a personal rediscovery of Miles Davis’ second great quintet, and specifically, Miles in the Sky and Filles de Kilimanjaro, which are both from 1968 sessions. Repeated listenings of these sessions make In a Silent Way and Bitches Brew not quite as surprising or radical as they are usually portrayed. Electric instrumentation was introduced, and Tony Williams’ drumming seems to be the driving force behind a changing sound.
But the facts and the musical context don’t explain why this music, now. Here’s the best I can explain: the music’s compelling beauty comes from its tensions—resolved and not resolved—created by a top-drawer ensemble of like-minded musicians who are directed by a restless, enigmatic genius searching for a way to push out of conventional expectations. And, at a time of uncertainty and change and suffering, this music offers undiminished demonstration of the human spirit’s capacity to be both responsive and propulsive.
Miles Davis and Tony Williams
Smooth-er jazz?
Being in proximity to my music collection more frequently during the pandemic, I have had opportunity to assemble playlists. As mentioned previously, the activity—thinking about and listening to music—is a little bit of tonic for a pandemic. This past week I put together a playlist of what might be called “smooth” jazz.
Generally, smooth jazz does not hold my interest very long, usually because I quickly tire of its sameness in production and kind. My speculation is that what separates smooth jazz from really smooth jazz is to be found in the way the rhythm sections plays and / or is produced. I am struck by how many examples of a smooth-er jazz that hold my interest have a great rhythm section. If a drummer like Lenny White, a bassist like Lonnie Plaxico, and a keyboardist like Jim Beard are playing, chances are the smooth is really smooth. Solos are important too, of course, and the bluesier the soloist is, the better?