A sonic exploration and tonal analysis of contemporary creative music in a myriad of improvisational/composed settings, textures, and expressions.
Welcome to Sound Projections
I'm your host Kofi Natambu. This online magazine features the very best in contemporary creative music in this creative timezone NOW (the one we're living in) as well as that of the historical past. The purpose is to openly explore, examine, investigate, reflect on, studiously critique, and take opulent pleasure in the sonic and aural dimensions of human experience known and identified to us as MUSIC. I'm also interested in critically examining the wide range of ideas and opinions that govern our commodified notions of the production, consumption, marketing, and commercial exchange of organized sound(s) which largely define and thereby (over)determine our present relationships to music in the general political economy and culture.
Thus this magazine will strive to critically question and go beyond the conventional imposed notions
and categories of what constitutes the generic and stylistic definitions of ‘Jazz’, ‘classical music’, ‘Blues.’
'Rhythm and Blues’, ‘Rock and Roll’, ‘Pop’, ‘Funk’, ‘Hip Hop’, etc. in order to search for what individual
artists and ensembles do cretively to challenge and transform our ingrained ideas and attitudes of what
music is and could be.
So please join me in this ongoing visceral, investigative, and cerebral quest to explore, enjoy, and pay
homage to the endlessly creative and uniquely magisterial dimensions of MUSIC in all of its guises and expressive identities.
Saturday, November 3, 2018
Randy Weston (1926-2018): Legendary, iconic, and innovative musician, composer, arranger, ensemble leader, producer, and teacher
Placing acclaimed pianist Randy Weston
into narrow, bop-derived categories only tells part of the story of
this restless musician. Starting with the gospel of bop according to Thelonious Monk, Weston emerged in the early '50s with a series of albums on the Riverside label and dates playing alongside such luminaries as Kenny Dorham and Cecil Payne.
A virtuosic player, he also made his mark as a composer, writing songs
like "Saucer Eyes," "Pam's Waltz," "Little Niles," and his most
recognizable composition, "Hi-Fly." From the '60s onward, he spent much
of his time in Africa, living in Morocco and traveling throughout the
continent. He gradually absorbed the letter and spirit of African and
Caribbean rhythms and tunes, welding everything together into a
searching, energizing, often celebratory blend. Over the years, his
wide-ranging artistry garnered numerous accolades, including two Grammy
Award nominations, an NEA Jazz Masters Fellowship, and a 2014 Doris Duke
Award.
Growing up in Brooklyn, Weston was surrounded by a rich musical community: he knew Max Roach, Cecil Payne, and Duke Jordan; Eddie Heywood lived across the street; Wynton Kelly was a cousin. Most influential of all was Monk, who tutored Weston upon visits to his apartment. Weston began working professionally in R&B bands in the late '40s before playing in the bebop outfits of Payne and Kenny Dorham. After signing with Riverside in 1954, Weston
led his own trios and quartets and attained a prominent reputation as a
composer, contributing jazz standards like "Hi-Fly" and "Little Niles"
to the repertoire and releasing albums like Jazz á la Bohemia, The Modern Art of Jazz, and New Faces at Newport. He also met arranger Melba Liston, who collaborated with Weston off and on from the late '50s into the 1990s.
Weston's
interest in his roots was stimulated by extended stays in Africa; he
visited Nigeria in 1961 and 1963, during which time he issued albums
like Highlife: Music from the New African Nations, Randy!, and African Cookbook.
He lived in Morocco from 1968 to 1973 following a tour, and
subsequently remained fascinated with the music and spiritual values of
the continent. In the '70s, Weston
made recordings for Arista-Freedom, Polydor, and CTI while maintaining a
peripatetic touring existence, mostly in Europe. His albums like Blue Moses, Tanjah (which earned him his first Grammy nomination in 1973), and Perspective
found him continuing to incorporate African influences along with funk
and soul-jazz, while moving between large-ensemble and small-group sets.
However, starting in the late '80s, after a period when his recording had slowed, Weston's
visibility in the U.S. skyrocketed with an extraordinarily productive
period in the studios for Antilles and Verve. His highly eclectic
recording projects included a trilogy of "Portrait" albums depicting Ellington, Monk, and himself; The Spirits of Our Ancestors, an ambitious two-CD work rooted in African music; a blues album; and a Grammy-nominated collaboration with the Gnawa Musicians of Morocco. Weston's fascination with the music of Africa continued on such works as 2003's Spirit! The Power of Music, 2004's Nuit Africaine, and 2006's Zep Tepi by Weston and his African Rhythms Trio.
In 2010, Weston released the live album The Storyteller,
which featured the then 84-year-old pianist in concert at Dizzy's Club
Coca-Cola as part of Jazz at Lincoln Center. Three years later, he
paired with Billy Harper for The Roots of the Blues. The African Nubian Suite,
an ambitious project conceptualized around Africa's heritage as the
birthplace of humanity and civilization, followed in 2016. Weston issued the solo piano album Sound in 2018. On September 1 of that year, he died at his home in Brooklyn at the age of 92.
After contributing six decades of musical direction and genius, Randy
Weston remains one of the world's foremost pianists and composers today,
a true innovator and visionary. Encompassing the vast rhythmic heritage
of Africa, his global creations musically continue to inform and
inspire. “Weston has the biggest sound of any jazz pianist since
Ellington and Monk, as well as the richest most inventive beat,” states
jazz critic Stanley Crouch, “but his art is more than projection and
time; it's the result of a studious and inspired intelligence...an
intelligence that is creating a fresh synthesis of African elements with
jazz technique”.
Randy Weston, born in Brooklyn, New York in
1926, didn't have to travel far to hear the early jazz giants that were
to influence him. Though Weston cites Count Basie, Nat King Cole, Art
Tatum, and of course, Duke Ellington as his other piano heroes, it was
Monk who had the greatest impact. “He was the most original I ever
heard,” Weston remembers. “He played like they must have played in Egypt
5000 years ago.”
Randy Weston’s first recording as a leader came
in 1954 on Riverside Records “Randy Weston plays Cole Porter - Cole
Porter in a modern mood.” It was in the 50's when Randy Weston played
around New York with Cecil Payne and Kenny Dorham that he wrote many of
his best loved tunes, “Saucer Eyes,” “Pam's Waltz,” “Little Niles,” and,
“Hi-Fly.” His greatest hit, “Hi-Fly,” Weston (who is 6' 8”) says, is a
“tale of being my height and looking down at the ground
Randy
Weston has never failed to make the connections between African and
American music. His dedication is due in large part to his father, Frank
Edward Weston, who told his son that he was, “an African born in
America.” “He told me I had to learn about myself and about him and
about my grandparents,” Weston said in an interview, “and the only way
to do it was I'd have to go back to the motherland one day.”
In
the late 60's, Weston left the country. But instead of moving to Europe
like so many of his contemporaries, Weston went to Africa. Though he
settled in Morocco, he traveled throughout the continent tasting the
musical fruits of other nations. This led him to settle in Morocco in
1968, where he continued to tour and perform throughout Morocco,
Tunisia, Togo, the Ivory Coast, and Liberia.
Weston has made more
than fifty recordings throughout his lifetime, the most celebrated
including “African Cookbook,” “Little Niles,” “Blue Moses,” “Berkshire
Blues,” “Uhuru Africa,” ( in collaboration with arranger Melba Liston)
and Grammy-nominated “Tanjah” and “Carnaval.” A prolific composer,
Weston’s highly individualistic works have been recorded by jazz
virtuosi like Max Roach, Monty Alexander, Dexter Gordon, Jimmy Heath,
Kenny Burrell, Abbey Lincoln, Bobby Hutchinson, Lionel Hampton, and
Cannonball Adderly.
Weston is an articulate spokesman on the
pivotal position of African music, dance, and other arts within world
culture; on the diversity and importance of Africa’s vast musical
resources; and on encouraging true cultural exchange and mutual learning
between creative artists.
In 2006 Brooklyn College honored him with the honorary degree “Doctor of Music” In 2003 New York University honored him with two weeks artist-in-residence and tribute concert In 2001 He received the Jazz Masters Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts In 2000 He received the Arts Critics and Reviewers Ass. of Ghana, Black Music Star Award In 1999 Harvard University honored him with a 1 week residency and tribute concert In 1997 He received The French Order Of Arts And Letters In 1995 The Montreal Jazz Festival gave him a 5 night tribute. In 1999, 1996 and 1994 he also won Composer of the year from Downbeat Magazine
Pianist and composer Randy Weston, who died on Saturday at 92. Chester Higgins
Randy
Weston, a pianist and composer who devoted more than half a century to
the exploration of jazz’s deep connection with Africa, died on Saturday
at his home in Brooklyn. He was 92. His death was announced by his wife and business partner, Fatoumata Weston. Over
the course of an extraordinarily long and distinguished career, Weston
carried on the pianistic and composerly tradition of Duke Ellington and
Thelonious Monk before him. But he was steadfast in a specific sense of
mission: he regarded jazz as an extension of African music, from its
foundational essence to its living expression. He made this argument not
only in eloquent conversation but also in powerful musical terms, often
in recent years with his band African Rhythms. An imposingly
tall but soft-spoken man, Weston embodied the connections he espoused.
His touch at the piano was emphatically percussive, but also elegant,
resonant and clear. He worked with a sophisticated harmonic language
often shaded in blue, and in his compositions — like “Hi-Fly” and “Little Niles,”
which have become standards — he drew an unmistakable line from the
African continent to the swinging verities of hard-bop and other strains
of modern jazz. “When you go to Africa, you become very humble,”
Weston told Sheila Anderson last year, in a Salon Session interview at
WBGO. “You realize that you are from thousands and thousands of years of
civilization, and how much we have to learn from these people.”
WBGO's Sheila Anderson with pianist Randy Weston, April 2017. Credit WBGO
86:43
An interview and performance with Randy Weston on WBGO's Salon Sessions, April 2017.
Weston
made his first visit to the African continent in 1961, as part of a
tour for the U.S. State Department. He visited Lagos, Nigeria on that
trip, and returned there under the same auspices two years later. After a
third visit in 1967, he decided to move to Morocco, finding deep
spiritual resonance in the traditional music of the Gnawa. In Tangier,
he opened and operated a popular jazz club, also called African Rhythms,
from the late ‘60s into the ‘70s. But it would be an
oversimplification to imply that Weston had an awakening during his
trips abroad. Born in Brooklyn, New York, on April 6, 1926, he came up
in a household conversant in African culture. His mother, Vivian, was
born in Virginia; his father, Frank, was Panamanian, and a strong
admirer of Marcus Garvey, whose pan-African message made a formative
impression. Weston studied classical piano before his
professional career began after the Second World War, with bluesmen like
Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson and Bullmoose Jackson. He encountered some
important encouragement when, in 1951, he took a summer job as a
breakfast chef at the Music Inn in the Berkshires. There he met the
scholar and historian Marshall Stearns, who eventually asked Weston to
accompany his lectures, some of which drew a decisive musicological
lineage between jazz and the folkloric music of West Africa. That
connection gradually became more legible to Weston. “My good friend,
the bassist Ahmad Abdul-Malik’s people were from the Sudan, and he
played the oud, which has this thing of playing notes between the
notes,” he recalled roughly a decade ago, in an appearance on NPR’s Piano Jazz.
“I couldn’t get that sound on the piano. But when I heard Thelonious
Monk play, I heard this same magic on the piano; even his way of
swinging had that same element.” Weston released his debut album, Cole Porter in a Modern Mood,
on Riverside Records in 1954. The following year he was named New Star
Pianist in the Down Beat International Critics' Poll. When he then
released The Randy Weston Trio, featuring Sam Gill on bass and Art Blakey on drums, it notably opened with a composition titled “Zulu.” During the ‘60s, Weston released a succession of boldly realized albums, including Uhuru Africa,
which featured African hand drumming front and center, alongside a big
band stacked with talent: Clark Terry, Yusef Lateef, Max Roach and Gigi
Gryce, just for starters. The arrangements were by Melba Liston, a close
collaborator who also worked with Weston on albums like Highlife (1963), Tanjah (1973) and The Spirits of Our Ancestors (1991). But Uhuru Africa, which also incorporates lyrics and poetry
by Langston Hughes, belongs in a category of its own. As Robin D.G.
Kelley has observed, the album “acknowledged Africa’s cultural ties to
its descendants, honored African womanhood and promoted the idea of a
modern Africa, a beacon for a new future.”
Weston had some more commercial outings in the ‘70s, none more so than Blue Moses,
released on CTI Records. It features Freddie Hubbard in peak
swashbuckling form, and a rhythm team that often features bassist Ron
Carter and drummer Billy Cobham, along with several percussionists. In African Rhythms: The Autobiography of Randy Weston,
a book written with Willard Jenkins and published in 2010, Weston
recalls being unpleasantly surprised by the slick production of Blue Moses, but appreciative of the fact that it was the biggest hit of his career.
By
and large, Weston’s success was less a matter of commercial performance
than cultural influence. He was a 2001 NEA Jazz Master, a 2011
Guggenheim Fellow, and a 2016 inductee in the DownBeat Critic’s Poll
Hall of Fame. He won a 2014 Doris Duke Artist Award and received several
honorary doctorate degrees. Two years ago his personal trove of musical
scores, correspondence, recordings and other materials were acquired by
Harvard Library, in collaboration with the Jazz Research Initiative at
the Hutchins Center for African and African American Research. Along
with his wife, Weston is survived by three of his four children,
Cheryl, Pamela and Kim; seven grandchildren; six great grandchildren;
and one great-great grandchild.
Last year Weston released The African Nubian Suite
— his 50th album, and the first on his own African Rhythms label,
supported by a Guggenheim Fellowship. Recorded in concert in 2012 at New
York University’s Skirball Center for the Performing Arts, it features
narration by the scholar Wayne Chandler and poetry by the late Jayne
Cortez.
Weston was planning to tour and record when he died; his
fall calendar was to include an Oct. 17 concert for the World Music
Institute at the New School. His message now lives on in his recordings
and concert footage, and will continue to exert influence by personal
example. “When I touch the piano,” he said in an All Things Considered profile
last year, “it becomes an African instrument. It’s no longer a European
instrument. I say that in a positive way, not a negative way.”
A
previous version of this story, relying on information from a
publicist, mistated Randy Weston's award from the Doris Duke Charitable
Foundation. It was a Doris Duke Artist Award, not a Doris Duke Impact
Award.
I was very fortunate to have seen and heard the man
on many occasions when I lived in Boston and New York during the ‘70s and ‘80s and he never failed to have a riveting impact on his audiences both as a consummate musician/composer/performer and scholar/spokesman for the music as both a national and disaporic force. Thankfully the fact that he did live a long and productive life (and produced many indelible recordings especially during the ‘golden age’ of the music from the late 1940s to the 1980s and beyond means that he and his indispensable contributions will never die. "HI-FLY" indeed…
Kofi
Randy Weston, Pianist Who Traced Roots of Jazz to Africa, Dies at 92
Randy Weston performing in 1963. His playing and composing emphasized the African roots of jazz.CreditCreditChuck Stewart/Mosaic Records
Randy
Weston, an esteemed pianist whose music and scholarship advanced the
argument — now broadly accepted — that jazz is, at its core, an African
music, died on Saturday at his home in Brooklyn. He was 92.
His death was confirmed by his lawyer, Gail Boyd.
On
his earliest recordings, in the mid-1950s for the Riverside label, Mr.
Weston almost fit the profile of a standard bebop musician: He recorded jazz standards and galloping original tunes in a typical small-group format.
But his sharply cut harmonies and intense, gnarled rhythms conveyed a
manifestly Afrocentric sensibility, one that was slightly more barbed
and rugged than the popular hard-bop sound of the day.
Early
on, he exhibited a distinctive voice as a composer. “Hi-Fly,” which he
first released in 1958 on the LP “New Faces at Newport,” became a
standard. And he eventually distinguished himself as a solo pianist,
reflecting the influence of his main idol, Thelonious Monk.
But more than Monk, Mr. Weston liked constantly to reshape his cadences, rarely lingering on a steady pulse.
Reviewing a concert
in 1990, Peter Watrous of The New York Times wrote of Mr. Weston,
“Everything he played was edited to the essential notes of a phrase, and
each phrase stood on its own, carefully separated from the next one;
Mr. Weston sat rippling waves of notes down next to glossy and
percussive octaves, which led logically to meditative chords.”
At
6 feet 7 inches tall, often favoring flowing garments from North or
West Africa, Mr. Weston was an imposing, though genial, figure whether
performing onstage or teaching in university classrooms. Even before
making his first album, he was giving concerts and teaching seminars
that emphasized the African roots of jazz. This flew in the face of the
prevailing narrative at the time, which cast jazz as a broadly American
music, and as a kind of equal-opportunity soundtrack to racial
integration.
“Wherever I go, I try to explain that if you love music, you have to know where it came from,” Mr. Weston told the website All About Jazz in 2003.
“Whether you say jazz or blues or bossa nova or samba, salsa — all
these names are all Africa’s contributions to the Western Hemisphere. If
you take out the African elements of our music, you would have
nothing.”
As countries across Africa
shook themselves free of colonial exploitation in the mid-20th century,
Mr. Weston recorded albums that explicitly saluted the struggle for
self-determination. “Uhuru Afrika” (the title is Swahili for “Freedom
Africa”), released in 1960, included lyrics written by Langston Hughes,
and sales were banned in South Africa by its apartheid regime.
That album — and others throughout his career — featured the marbled horn arrangements of the trombonist Melba Liston, who left an indelible stamp on Mr. Weston’s oeuvre.
In
1959 he became a central member of the United Nations Jazz Society, a
group seeking to spread jazz throughout the world, particularly in
Africa. In 1961 he visited Nigeria as part of a delegation of the
American Society for African Culture, beginning a lifelong
trans-Atlantic exchange.
After two
more trips to Africa, he moved to Morocco, in 1968, having first arrived
there on a trip sponsored by the State Department. He stayed for five
years, living first in Rabat and then in Tangier, where he ran the
African Rhythms Cultural Center, a performance venue that fostered
artists from various traditions.
Mr.
Weston drew particular inspiration from musicians of the Gnawa
tradition, whose music centered on complex, commingled rhythms and low
drones. While in Morocco he established a rigorous international touring
regimen and played often in Europe.
In the late 1980s and early ’90s, Mr. Weston released a series
of high-profile recordings for the Verve label, all to critical
acclaim. Those included tributes to his two greatest American
influences, Duke Ellington and Monk, as well as a record dedicated to
his own compositions, “Self Portraits,” from 1989.
Mr.
Weston earned Grammy nominations in 1973 for his album “Tanjah” (for
best jazz performance by a big band), and in 1995 for “The Splendid
Master Gnawa Musicians of Morocco” (in the best world music album
category), a recording that he produced and released under his name but
on which he left most of the playing to 11 Moroccan musicians.
In 2001, the National Endowment for the Arts gave Mr. Weston its Jazz Masters award, the highest accolade available to a jazz artist in the United States. He was voted into DownBeat magazine’s hall of fame in 2016.
Randolph
Edward Weston was born in Brooklyn on April 6, 1926. His father, Frank,
was a barber and restaurateur who had emigrated from Panama and studied
his African heritage with pride. His mother, Vivian (Moore) Weston, was
a domestic worker who had grown up in Virginia.
Randy Weston at the Newport Jazz Festival in 2011. Credit: Erik Jacobs for The New York Times
Though
his parents split up when he was 3, they stayed on good terms and lived
near each other in Brooklyn. Randy spent time with both throughout his
childhood, receiving his father’s teachings about the cultures of Africa
and the Caribbean while absorbing the music of the African-American
church from his mother, who made sure that Randy and his half sister,
Gladys, were in the pews every Sunday.
In his memoir, “African Rhythms”
(2010), written with Willard Jenkins, Mr. Weston recalled that his
father — a supporter of Marcus Garvey’s Universal Negro Improvement
Association — hung “maps and portraits of African kings on the walls,
and was forever talking to me about Africa.”
Mr.
Weston wrote of his father, “He was planting the seeds for what I would
become as far as developing my consciousness of the plight of Africans
all over the world.”
Mr. Weston took
classical piano lessons as a child but did not fall in love with the
instrument until he started studying with a teacher who encouraged his
already growing interest in jazz, particularly the music of Ellington,
Count Basie and the saxophonist Coleman Hawkins.
Mr.
Weston was drafted into the Army in 1944 while World War II was
underway, serving three years in an all-black unit under the military’s
segregationist policies and rising to staff sergeant. While stationed in
Okinawa, Japan, he was in charge of managing supplies, and frequently
tried to share leftover materials and food with local residents, many of
whom had lost their homes in the war.
Upon
returning to Brooklyn, he took over managing his father’s restaurant,
Trios, which became a hub of intellectuals and artists. Mr. Weston began
playing jazz and R&B gigs in the borough, seeking wisdom from older
musicians. He became particularly close to Monk.
“When I heard Monk play, his sound, his direction, I just fell in love with it,” Mr. Weston told All About Jazz
in 2003. “I would pick him up in the car and bring him to Brooklyn, and
he was a great master because, for me, he put the magic back into the
music.”
Heroin use was rampant on the
jazz scene then, and Mr. Weston sometimes used the drug, though he
never developed a full-blown addiction. In 1951 he left New York,
seeking a fresh start in Lenox, Mass. He made frequent trips to the
Music Inn, a venue in nearby Stockbridge, and while working there he met
Marshall Stearns, a leading jazz scholar with strong beliefs about
jazz’s West African roots, who was giving lectures and leading workshops
there.
Mr. Weston started to perform
regularly, and he and Mr. Stearns collaborated on a series of round
tables about the history of jazz. Mr. Weston met musicians from across
the African diaspora, including the Nigerian drummer Babatunde Olatunji, the Cuban percussionist Cándido Camero and the Sierra Leonean drummer Asadata Dafora.
When he returned to Brooklyn, he was brimming with ideas about the synchrony of African tradition and jazz innovation.
He
later received fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, the Doris
Duke Charitable Foundation and United States Artists, as well as awards
from the Moroccan government and the Institute of the Black World.
He
held honorary doctorates of music from Brooklyn College, Colby College
and the New England Conservatory, and had served as artist in residence
at universities around New York City. Mr. Weston’s papers are archived at Harvard University’s Hutchins Center for African & African American Research.
He
is survived by his wife, Fatoumata Mbengue; three daughters, Cheryl,
Pamela and Kim; seven grandchildren; six great-grandchildren; and one
great-great-grandchild. Mr. Weston’s first marriage, to Mildred Mosley,
ended in divorce. A son, Azzedin, is deceased.
Mr. Weston remained in good health late in life, performing most often with a rotating group he called African Rhythms.
In 2016, he released his 50th and final album as a bandleader, the two-disc “African Nubian Suite,”
which featured an orchestra-size iteration of African Rhythms. Through
music and spoken word, the suite traces humanity’s origins back to the
Nile River delta.
His last public concert
was in July at the Nice Jazz Festival in France, with his African
Rhythms Quintet. At his death, his website listed performances scheduled
through October.
For Mr. Weston,
music was a way of connecting histories with the present, and a communal
undertaking. Looking back on his career, he told All About Jazz: “I
have been blessed because I have been around some of the most fantastic
people on the planet. I have become a composer and become a pianist. I
couldn’t ask for anything more.”
Randy Weston interview: 'African music is for the world'
The great jazz pianist talks about racism, discovering Africa and the power of
music to change lives
Legendary jazz musician Randy Weston at the piano in 2007Photo: AFP by Ivan Hewett
November 2014
The power of positive thinking is something the great jazz
pianist and composer Randy Weston has never had to learn. Now aged 88,
he exudes a wise benevolence which sees the good side of everything.
Even the memory of the racism that marked his early life is something he
recounts mildly, without rancour.
It’s as if Weston is attached by a hidden umbilical chord to some secret
source of nourishment, and it soon becomes clear what that is. “You
know, every day I give thanks for the culture I grew up in, in
Brooklyn,” he says. “Our parents would bring all kinds of music into the
house, it could beBillie Holidayor
Duke Ellington or Louis Armstrong. They used to take us to the Apollo
Theatre to hear shows.” Was it mostly jazz they listened to? “Oh no, it
was all kinds, jazz, calypso, gospel. It was all part of our
African-American heritage, even if we didn’t play it. And we heard
classical music too, when we went to the opera.”
Young Randy soaked it all up, and soon began taking lessons. “It was
something everybody did, it was a requirement not just in my household,
but the neighbourhood.” One gets the sense of a constant effort at
self-improvement in the black community, coupled with a pride in their
cultural roots. “When I was six my father said to me, ‘My son, you’re an
African born in America. The only history you’re ever going to hear is
the one about colonialism and slavery, but you need to learn about the
great African empires.’ So we would go to the museum and look at the
artefacts from Nubia and Ghana. I used to dream as a kid of these things.”
Getting in touch with his roots wasn’t just a
matter of learning a suppressed history. The young Weston was
inculcated into a whole way of thinking about music. “We look on music
as something that has a role in the community, not just for
entertainment. A musician is a storyteller and healer, he makes music
for a baby being born, music for harvesting. African music is rooted in
the sounds of Mother Nature, of wind and bird songs and animal sounds.
Even the instruments are rooted in daily life. You don’t go to the shop
to make an instrument, you make one yourself, with whatever is around
you. That’s how it was in Africa, and wherever African people have been
taken they’ve kept their memory of art. You see the same thing in Cuba
and Venezuela and Brazil.”
All this
would bear fruit in Weston’s own music, but first he had to master
African music in its local, acceptable form: jazz. And that wasn’t easy,
at a time when the bar was set so high. “You got to remember this was
the time of great jazz pianists like Willie 'The Lion' Smith, Eddie
Condon, Nat King Cole, Art Tatum. These are our royalty. So I never
thought I could turn professional. Of course I was playing before that,
at local gigs and dances and so forth. But faced with that perfection
and originality I was bound to be a little timid, until I realised I had
something to say.”
Reaching that point took some time. Weston
escaped from Brooklyn, which after the war had become infested with
drugs and alcohol, to the peace of the Berkshire Mountains in
Massachusetts. There, at the Music Inn, a resort founded by jazz
historian Marshall Stearns, he honed his craft as a pianist and learned
about jazz’s African roots. Not until he was 29 did Weston feel ready to
break into the profession, touring with various bands and eventually
forming his own trio. He released his debut album, Cole Porter in a
Modern Mood, in 1954.
Then in the 1960s came the reunion with Africa he’d always dreamed
of. “First I went to Nigeria in 1961, with 29 American artists including
the poet Langston Hughes, who I wrote a piece with, and Lionel Hampton
and Nina Simone, and two dancers from the Savoy ballroom. I went back to
Lagos in 1963 and I felt so comfortable, like I’d never left. In 1967 I
was asked to do a tour by the State Department, and Morocco was the
last stop. I felt a special bond with that country, because they also
had experienced slavery. Our slavery came from over the Atlantic, theirs
came from over the Sahara desert. I had a club in Tangiers for three
years. We would bring over blues bands from Chicago, singers from the
Congo, from Brazil, from Niger. I wanted to reflect the fact that
African culture has become a global culture.” It’s only when I
ask Weston whether things are better now than in the days of segregation
that his optimism dims. “No, because we’ve forgotten the roots of our
culture. I always say to young musicians, if you study the roots of
music you will have more respect for your elders and your ancestors. The
more they learn it, the more they appreciate what African music has
given the world, but the problem is it has zero representation in the
media.” But Weston can’t be gloomy for long. “I think when the
dust has settled people will go back to the music that is for all times.
The great thing about African music is it’s not music for the young, or
the old, it’s music for everybody. We have this situation in the modern
world where music is something you choose just to please yourself, but
with us, music is always for the people.” Randy Weston appears with Billy Harper and JD Allen at the Queen Elizabeth Hall on 17 November as part of the EFG London Jazz Festival. Tickets: 0844 875 0073; efglondonjazzfestival.org.uk
On September 1, 2018, we lost a true musical giant, innovator,
NEA Jazz Master, and a warrior for the elevation of African-American
pride and culture. His compositions disseminating the richness and
beauty of the African aesthetic are unparalleled. Randy Weston was born during an era of extreme racism, segregation,
and discrimination in the United States. His life’s mission was one of
unfolding the curtain that concealed the wonderful greatness and
extraordinary accomplishments inherent on the African continent. I am super blessed and honored to have been a member of Randy’s band
for 38 years. Baba Randy was a spiritual father and mentor for myself,
and so many people. Our last public performances were in Rome and Nice
in July, with Billy Harper on tenor sax, Alex Blake on bass, Neil Clarke
on percussion, and myself on alto saxophone and flute.
I will always remember Weston’s extreme kindness and generosity. My
first four impressions of him revealed who he was and what he cherished:
The first time I ever heard Randy Weston perform live was at The East
in Bed-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, in the early 1970s. His band was a duo
with his son Azzedin on African percussion. The communication and
symmetry of father and son were beyond belief. This was a clear
demonstration of his love for and mentorship of his children. I also
remember Randy inviting the great James Spaulding to sit in on flute.
In the late 1970s, I performed with the legendary South African
pianist Abdullah Ibrahim at Ornette Coleman’s Artist House Loft in Soho,
New York City. Randy attended this show with his father Frank Edward
Weston and his manager Colette. I witnessed first-hand his profound
love, respect, and reverence for the elders and his admiration for other
musicians especially from the continent of Africa.
Also in the late 1970s, I had my first opportunity to perform with
Randy. It was at a fundraiser in support of the South West African
People’s Organization, which fought against apartheid in South Africa.
This was yet another demonstration of his commitment to the struggle for
civil and human rights worldwide. Then during the summer of 1980, I was overjoyed by having my first
hired performance with Randy and his African Rhythms group at the House
Of The Lord Church in Brooklyn, which again displayed his support and
commitment to keep jazz alive in the black community and his in-depth
love for the African-American church. Much more recently, when my mom Lois Marie Rhynie passed in 2014,
there was a last-minute issue with the church piano. Weston paid for the
rental of a beautiful baby grand and performed gratis. My last visit to Randy’s place in Brooklyn was on August 18, 2018. He
was so happy and energetic. Coincidentally when I walked in the room he
was listening to a CD of his solo improvisatory piano incursions of the
highest level. With each note and phrase, both of us were in a profound
state of excitement. I asked, “Hey Chief, where’s this from?” He
candidly replied, “The Spirits of Our Ancestors.”
May 20, 1991 marked the first day recording sessions for The Spirit of Our Ancestors,
a landmark recording by Randy Weston and African Rhythms at the
world-famous BMG studios in New York City. When I arrived at the
building lobby, the elevator door opened and standing inside was Dizzy
Gillespie with his longtime close friend and associate Jacques Muyal,
who was living in Switzerland. On my first trip to Tangiers in 1985, I
visited Jacques’s home and met his mother and brother. Mr. Muyal is an
extraordinary gentleman and jazz producer with a deep love of our music. I was quite overwhelmed knowing I would be on the same recording as
the great Dizzy Gillespie, responsible for the major evolution in jazz
history called bebop. We hit it off right away and Maestro Gillespie
greeted me with a warm smile and hug. Once we started the session I
handed Dizzy a Bb trumpet lead sheet for “African Sunrise.” He stated
his preference for a concert lead sheet. After his perusal of the music
he noticed an E minor7(b5) to A7(b9) resolving to D minor7. Dizzy then
went to the piano and said, “Look at the E minor7(b5) as a G minor6 with
the 6th in the bass.” Then he proceeded to play the most gorgeous chord
progression. He was a pure musical genius! When he later did the first
and only take of “African Sunrise,” Dizzy never looked at the music. Soon to arrive in the studio were the leader Randy Weston and his
longtime arranger and trombonist Melba Liston. Melba had recently
endured a stroke and was confined to a wheel chair. However she taught
herself how to compose and arrange on the computer using her left hand
only. (Her right hand was incapacitated due to the stroke.) Preceding
this recording Randy and I were performing in Los Angeles and we would
frequently check on Melba to see how she was doing health wise and how
the arrangements were unfolding. Shortly after their arrival an A list of jazz practitioners blessed
the room with their astonishing presence: First Idrees Sulieman, the
great trumpet player and who also could burn on alto sax. Next was Benny
Powell and we had become really close since our joint performances and
tours for African Rhythms dating back to 1985. (I was also featured on
his album Why Don’t You Say Yes, Sometimes? which was recorded around the same time as Spirits of Our Ancestors.) There were three tenor sax legends. Billy Harper—I first heard Billy
with his band at Joe Lee Wilson’s jazz loft The Ladies Fort Festival in
the mid-1970s. He was on fire and I also heard him later with Max
Roach. Dewey Redman—Dewey often spoke very highly about a young upcoming
tenor titan that was not yet very well known, but soon to be the
unconquerable master tenor sax player Joshua Redman, who also happened
to be his son. It was my first time to play with Dewey and he was also
featured with Randy’s band for a concert at Lincoln Center not too long
before he passed away. He was a gentle man and a giant on the tenor sax!
Up next was Pharoah Sanders—I was a huge fan of Mr. Sanders since my
high school days in Long Island. During my senior year the early 1970s
“The Creator Has A Master Plan” was our anthem. It was quite
awe-inspiring to have an opportunity to record with a master and
spiritual beacon of improvisation. On bass, Alex Blake—Alex and I are best friends and his artistry on
the bass is quite breathtaking. This was our first recording together,
but I had first heard him in duo with Randy at the Village Vanguard in
the mid-1970s. Also on bass, Jamil Nasser—Maestro Jamil and Randy were
extremely tight. Randy credited Jamil with introducing him to four great
pianists: Oscar Dennard, Lucky Roberts, Phineas Newborn, and Ahmad
Jamal. (I was blessed to be a member of Benny Powell’s Quintet since the
late 1980s and Jamil was one of the bassists. His knowledge was vast
and deeply spiritual.) Idris Muhammad played the drums. It was my first opportunity to
perform with Idris. Wow, he always displayed an in-depth sensibility for
the second-line New Orleans aesthetic and kept everything modern with
melodic underpinnings. Randy loved Idris dearly and they had previously
recorded together for Verve Records. Arriving next was Big Black, an
outstanding percussionist. Words are inadequate to describe his
dexterous rhythmic interplay and soulful drive on the hand drums rooted
in the Mississippi delta blues, jazz, and the traditions of Africa and
its diaspora. (I was so overjoyed to perform many concerts with Big
Black since then; his sense of time and swing was quite astounding!) Randy’s son Azzedin Weston also played percussion and his rhythmic
pulsating groove remained ever present. He was a natural genius who also
spoke several languages fluently and his artwork could rival
Picasso’s!!! (We were like brothers and I was very sad at his passing.) Finally, there was Yassir Chadly on genbri and karkaba. Yassir was
part of the Gnawa musical tradition from Morocco and he resided on the
west coast. Randy’s original plan was to have six Gnawa musicians from
Morocco but they were not allowed visas at the last minute. Yassir did a
wonderful job as their replacement. I will always remember Randy’s extreme happiness to have so many
heavyweights in the same room. Randy treated all of the musicians as
family and our respect for the Chief was quite evident. There was so
much history between Randy and Melba, Melba and Dizzy, Idres Sulieman
and Jamil Nasser, Big Black and Randy—they already had tremendous
musical collaborations during one of the most fruitful and fertile
period of jazz’s evolution. But there was an unbelievable bond
established among all participants. The first 2 and 1/2 hours of very
expensive studio time was dedicated solely to warm greetings, hugs,
handshakes, more hugs, more handshakes, etc.
Finally the producer asked me to help him coral the troops so we
could start recording. It was physically difficult for Melba to direct,
so I was called to the task. I also had to solo after Dizzy on “African
Sunrise,” which was a daunting endeavor. Melba wrote some immensely
memorable arrangements capturing the spirit of our ancestors. Please
check out the three tenor saxophones in battle on “The African
Cookbook”!!! Subsequently I went on to record the following projects with Dr. Weston: Volcano Blues, Saga, Khepera, and Spirit, The Power of Music. And on his last two ensemble recordings—The Storyteller and The African Nubian Suite—my
duties included being an associate producer. I was truly fortunate to
spend 38 years performing, recording, and touring the world with Randy
Weston, a true African Griot. Randy Weston is the last pianistic link between Duke Ellington and
Thelonious Monk. His forays into improvisation are clearly a
manifestation of the highest tier regarding a creative genius with
astounding originality. His compositions are in the pantheon of renowned
jazz standards.
Words are inadequate to express my love, admiration, appreciation,
and gratitude for such an incredible human being. May his spirit rest in
paradise for eternity. We will miss you Baba Randy!!!
Randy Weston And Billy Harper: Unearthing The 'Roots Of The Blues'
Randy
Weston is one of jazz's most renowned and visionary pianists and
composers. Over six decades' Weston has been a true innovator, crafting
thoughtful works that seamlessly meld jazz and blues theory with African
rhythms.
On his latest recording, The Roots Of The Blues, Weston
continues his longstanding musical collaboration with saxophonist Billy
Harper -- a soulful partnership that dates back to the 1974. Recorded in
early 2013, the duo's record showcases inventive arrangements and
improvisations and a shared love for the blues and rich global music
traditions. It's another high mark for the distinguished musicians.
Over six decades, Randy Weston has been a true jazz innovator.
For four of those decades he has been making music with Billy Harper.
Watch them perform 'Blues to Senegal' in studio.
Mar 12, 2018
The American pianist, composer, innovator, and "Legend of Jazz,"
Randy Weston died today, Sept. 1, at the age of 92. We honor his memory
by looking back at this session from March.
September 1, 2018
"...This music was created in Africa and then spread to Europe and spread to
other parts of the world. Most people don't understand or realize that."
In my youth, a television news magazine aired a feature on how the map
of the world we, as kids, were taught in school was in fact, biased. In
reality, Europe and America are not nearly as vast as they seem in the
Thomas Guide and Africa and Asia, not nearly as insignificant. South
Africa, for instance, is nearly twice the size of Texas and has a stock
exchange that is among the largest in the world. But South Africa, even
with pop culture's politically correct fondness of Mandela, is a world
away. To history, it must even be farther. And that is why Randy Weston
has fought to educate musically, the history of Africa, unbiased by
Euro-American stigmas. For that, Weston has been rewarded with
mainstream obscurity, critical categorization, and corporate malice. I
have a heavy heart most days because of such things. Perhaps in time, we
will learn. Until then, may I present, Randy Weston, unedited and in
his own words.
All About Jazz: Let's start from the beginning.
Randy Weston:
My father wanted me to play music. I loved music, but I didn't think I
had any talent. I was lucky to have parents who made sure I took music
lessons.
FJ: I was of the understanding that Wynton Kelly was a cousin of yours.
RW:
That is right. We were very close. He was playing like that at fifteen
years old. Yeah, at fifteen, he was already playing like crazy. He was
also a very fine organist. We used to go to his uncle's church and he
would play the organ for us. Wynton had perfect pitch. He could hear
anything and play it. He was a genius. What a great, great musician and a
beautiful human being.
FJ: Your profound relationship with Thelonious Monk has been chronicled as well.
RW:
My first real hero of music was Coleman Hawkins when he did 'Body and
Soul.' I loved Coleman Hawkins so much that whenever he played in New
York, I would go to hear him. I also would experience that he also had
the best of the younger musicians. I heard Hank Jones with Coleman
Hawkins. I heard Sir Charles Thompson with Coleman Hawkins. I heard a
number of people. When I first heard Monk, I heard Monk with Coleman
Hawkins. When I heard Monk play, his sound, his direction, I just fell
in love with it. I spent about three years just hanging out with Monk. I
would pick him up in the car and bring him to Brooklyn and he was a
great master because, for me, he put the magic back into the music.
FJ: People fear and condemn what they don't understand.
RW: They sure do.
FJ: Monk fell victim to that due in large part to his reticent personality.
RW:
They said that he couldn't play. His thought of a different way to play
the piano than what everybody else was playing, so they said that he
couldn't play and they recognize him as a great composer. But I heard
his piano. When I heard the way he played the piano, that is why I love
what he does. People put all kinds of labels on people, but the people
who knew, they knew Monk was a master, an absolute master of piano and
composition. When I heard him do that, it made me want to be closer to
him to learn because when you are with masters like Monk, Duke, and
Dizzy and people like that.
Growing up in New York, I would just
go and hang out with these people. So from Monk to Eubie Blake to Bud
Powell, every night, I was with the greats. But Monk was the one that
really reached me because of his sound. He put the magic, for me, into
the music. For me, his music is very natural, very logical, a
combination of both. He didn't play a lot of notes. He didn't have to
play a lot of notes. He made statements. All of the songs had meaning.
He wrote songs about his family. He was a great composer and a great
pianist, but he had a different approach. You see, Fred, my first love
was Count Basie and what I loved about Basie was that he knew the
importance of space. Basie was a master of that and so was Monk. I love
them both for that. Ellington also had that sound, that incredible
sound, that magical sound on the piano. They would get sounds that are
not really in the piano. That's what I loved. To me, he was incredible.
FJ: Do you miss Melba Liston?
RW:
Oh, my God, yes. She is with me every second of my life. What a great,
great woman. Her commitment to her people, like Duke and Basie and all
the older people, they not only just made music, but their music was
also a commitment to African people and African-American people. That is
why she was so rich. She has written for Motown and for Dizzy and she
did concerts with symphony orchestras with me. She was a total arranger,
but she had the commitment of her people and this is the key because
you can play great, but if you lose you people, something is missing.
She paid for that. She sacrificed for that.
FJ:
There is a rather sinister tendency in the mainstream media to
discredit the contributions of black musicians by breaking their
legacies apart into bits and pieces.
RW: That
is a great point. Music is free. There is so many directions to go in
music. You can be an entertainer or whatever. For me, my music is
African rhythms. That is what I call my music. I have been trying to
project the history of our music, which is Africa. But as far as
categories are concerned, it all depends on each artist. My point is
that music is free. You can do or not do. If you want to categorize, you
do that. If you don't want to, you don't. That is what is so wonderful
about music because there are so many different directions you can go.
FJ: There are antagonists who would claim you have, to a fault, placed too much of an importance on African rhythms.
RW:
I have a lot of young people who come to me and thank me for my
persistence and my consistency with African music and showing the whole
connection and showing that music first happened in Africa in the first
place. Before there was a Europe and before there was an Asia, African
people created music and we come from that. I have a lot of young people
today that come to me and thank me for the work that I have done
through the years to show the importance of African heritage, which has
enriched the whole, entire world.
As
far as Africa is concerned, my father, when I was six years old, he
said to me, 'My son, you are an African born in America. Don't let
anybody tell you that you are anything else but that. Look in the mirror
and look at me and describe what you see. Therefore, you have to know
your history as an African.' And therefore, as a boy, I was always
reading about Africa before colonialism, before the exploitation and
during the time of great African civilizations. My dad started me at a
very early age and so I had no choice.
Plus, he made me take
piano lessons. I was lucky to have two great parents. It all came from
them and everything I do is based on what they taught me. All music
began in Africa. All music began in Africa. The ancient Egyptians had
schools of music. They were the first ones to write music. They were
master instrument makers of harps and flutes and horns. So the whole
concept of music was created in Africa and then spread to Europe and
spread to other parts of the world. Most people don't understand or
realize that.
Wherever I go, I try to explain that if you love
music, you have to know where it came from. Music was based upon
spiritual values. In other words, you can't have a civilization unless
they had music. African traditional societies have music for every
single activity. So our ancestors brought that concept, even in slavery,
they brought that concept to the Americas. So whether we were taken to
Brazil or Cuba or Jamaica, whatever, that whole concept of Africa
continues. All the names, whether you say jazz or blues or bossa nova or
samba, salsa, all these names are all Africa's contributions to the
Western hemisphere. If you take out the African elements of our music,
you would have nothing. But Africa has been put down so much that we
have not had a true history of Africa when it had its great
civilizations. So that is where music came from, Africa in the first
place.
FJ: Why does modern history being taught in schools today, ignore those contributions?
RW:
That is not modern. That has happened from the time we arrived. When
you are taken away from your home and you are taken as a slave and your
history is taken away. That is not something modern. When I was a kid,
luckily, I had strong parents at home that made sure that I knew my
history. But at the schools and at the movies, Africa was a place of
people who had no culture and no history and the whole world has come
from African civilization. Everything has come from African
civilization, but you have to take time to read and study and listen and
watch and I did all that. When I heard Monk play the piano, I heard
African music. You don't hear nothing like that in Europe. It doesn't
exist. In traditional African society, there is music for every single
activity and that is where we come from. That is why, because of
slavery. When you are defeated and you are taken as slaves, the first
thing they do is take away your history.
FJ: Is it fear of the black man?
RW:
Just ignorance, omission. If you don't get it in school and you don't
get it at home, you don't know any better. I would chant like Tarzan
just like all the other kids. I didn't know any better because it is not
being taught. All humanity comes out of Africa. All people come out of
Africa. Africa has enriched the whole, entire planet. Once people start
to realize that, then they would have a different way of looking at us.
They say that jazz began in New Orleans. That is ridiculous. This music
began thousands of years ago. It was just carried on to European
instruments, European languages. We have just not had the true history
of Mother Africa, which has enriched the whole planet.
FJ: You have made the journey to Africa numerous times.
RW: Yes, I was there this year.
FJ: Has Western civilization changed the face of Africa and have those changes been positive?
RW:
That is a very deep question because when I go to Africa, I go for the
ancestors. I go for the spirits. I don't go for the people that are
there. What I mean by that is, of course, I know people there and of
course, I have good friends there and of course, we have the chaos and
the sickness and the wars and all the terrible things, but when I go to
Africa, I go for the ancestors. I look for the elders. I look for the
elder musicians. I look for the monuments. I read the books of the
civilizations, of the spirits, and of the ancestors. That never changes.
But for me, I have been very fortunate. I have been to fourteen
countries in Africa and performed there. Everybody has been very
beautiful to me, very wonderful to me, just wonderful. But when I go, I
go for the ancestors.
FJ: Your music has gone undocumented for a handful of years.
RW:
The big companies just forgot about art. Everything now is about money.
The big corporations have taken over everything now. The artistic
people in the company had the leave or they went into another direction.
But they don't have people who know about the music anymore. Now, it is
just money. If you hit a piece of metal and it sells, they're happy.
Now, everything is sales. They no longer record artists anymore. Now, it
is what is going to sell a million. That is what is important, whereas
years ago, it was art that was important and that is why we had so many
wonderful recordings. It is all money now, all profit. If it sells, it
is great. Most of the companies now only have bureaucrats. They don't
know anything about this music. They don't know anything about the
history of this music. The few who did know had to leave. All I can tell
you, Fred, is that I have been blessed. I don't have not one complaint.
I just turned 77 on Sunday. Unfortunately, Babatunde Olatunji died on
my birthday. He died 7:30 Sunday morning. I have been blessed because I
have been around some of the most fantastic people on the planet. I have
become a composer and become a pianist. I couldn't ask for anything
more.
The pianist Randy Weston and the tenor
saxophonist Billy Harper share an implicit understanding of jazz as both
a spiritual art and a social act, worth taking seriously more for
pragmatic than scholarly reasons (but those, too, up to a point). Their
musical acquaintance stretches back about 40 years, so the main question
to ask of “The Roots of the Blues,” their plain-spoken, enlightened new
duo album, is why it took so long.
One possible answer is that both musicians have been busy enough in larger settings, notably Mr. Weston’s long-running African Rhythms.
Another would be that saxophone-and-piano albums require an intrepid
investment from record labels as well as musicians, despite a wealth of
precedent in the format. (Sunnyside, which licensed this duo album from
Universal France, also released a very good, very different one earlier
this year, by the saxophonist Ben Wendel and the pianist Dan Tepfer.)
Anyway, it makes sense to regard “The Roots of
the Blues” as an earned entitlement for two artists who have made earthy
colloquy a mutual trademark.
(At 87, Mr. Weston is well into the bloom of distinguished jazz
elderhood; Mr. Harper, 70, is just entering it. They’ll appear at the
Iridium on Nov. 26 and 27; theiridium.com.)
There’s just a bit of historical box checking
on the album, with tracks that claim obvious connection to Duke
Ellington (“Take the A Train”); Coleman Hawkins (“Body and Soul”) and
Thelonious Monk (Mr. Weston’s “Carnival,” stamped with Monkish flair).
All of which works well, as do a pair of solo pieces: “If One Could Only
See,” the lone tune by Mr. Harper, played in prayerful rubato; and
“Roots of the Nile,” a fount of pianistic mystery.
As that last title suggests, the album finds
its deepest current in original songs that strive to evoke a place,
either in myth or in memory. “Blues to Senegal” begins as an
unstructured call and response between Mr. Weston’s rumbling lines and
Mr. Harper’s focused cry, before settling into a purposeful stroll.
“Congolese Children Song” features a melody made up of dissonant
singsong, over a light, skipping rhythm. “The Healers” revolves around a
somber but uplifting theme with undercurrents of the gospel church.
And “African Lady,” offered as a bonus track,
is a new version of a ballad Mr. Weston introduced on his 1960 album
“Uhuru Africa,” with lyrics by Langston Hughes. Mr. Harper takes it on
squarely, projecting in a firm, even tone, until he and Mr. Weston let
the melody trail off, as if punctuated with an ellipsis.
DBDBD NY – cross-cultural on-line
magazine – believes based on the view that music and community are
indivisible that a social awareness can be fostered through music.
The Greene Space event: Cornel West and Randy Weston – Jazzmen in the World of Ideas!
Text by Augusta Palmer
Photo by Scott Smith
It’s rare to have the opportunity to listen to a conversation that is
deeply intellectual, profoundly spiritual, and laced throughout with
laughter. The Greene Space event “Cornel West and Randy Weston: Jazzmen in the World of Ideas,” ably moderated by Terrance McKnight,
was just such a conversation. A lot of ground was covered: the nights a
Harvard-educated West slept in Central Park because he was “broke as
the 10 Commandments”; the inspiration to become an “Africanist in every
sense” that Weston received from his Marcus Garvey-inspired father as well as his encounters with Morocco’s Gnawa,
who once put him into a trance that lasted for 2 weeks; the impact of
the prison-industrial complex; and the current prevalence of what West
referred to as “the 11th Commandment: Do not get caught!” West also spoke eloquently about his early fascination with music,
sports, and girls, as well as his tendency to identify with the
underdog, and his grade-school experiences with the redistribution of
wealth – in the form of tuna sandwiches. He spoke eloquently of Blues
and Jazz as the best responses to terrorism, because they are the
creation of “a terrorized, traumatized people who decided to lift every
voice and sing.”
The actress Tamela Aldridge started the evening with beautiful readings from Cornel West’s Brother West: Living and Loving Out Loud,which was recently issued in paperback and Randy Weston’s African Rhythms: The Autobiography of Randy Weston(written
in collaboration with Willard Jenkins), which has just come out in hard
cover. Weston’s autobiography is an amazing ride. It takes readers from
his upbringing in 1930s Brooklyn, through Weston’s first trip to Africa
in 1961, and his continuing love affair with the continent that all of
our ancestors emerged from. Along the way, the reader meets Weston’s
friends and mentors, giants of jazz like Charlie Parker, Thelonious
Monk, Max Roach, Dizzy Gillespie, and Duke Ellington, to name a few.
Thankfully, Weston also sat down at the piano to play “High Fly” and the
Gnawa-inspired “Blue Moses.” A grand piano in Tribeca
may seem awfully far away from Gnawa castanets in Marrakesh’s Djemaa el
Fna, but Weston’s playing takes you there effortlessly.
The Tribeca Performing Arts Center venue is an intimate, beautiful space which will also be the venue for the 50th Anniversary performance of Uhuru Afrika,
an amazing four-part suite composed by Mr. Weston and arranged by Melba
Liston, with lyrics by Langston Hughes. The performance on Saturday
November 13th will feature three performers from the original 1960
recording: Mr. Weston on piano, Charlie Persip on drums, and the legendary Candido on Cuban percussion.
I’ve only skimmed the surface of this 80-minute event, but you can view a video of the entire conversation here:
Jazz Legend Randy Weston on His Life and Celebration of "African Rhythms" (Democracy Now!)
DEMOCRACY NOW!
February 20, 2012
democracynow.org -
In a Black History Month special, Democracy Now! airs an extended interview with the legendary pianist and composer Randy Weston. For the past six decades, Weston has been a pioneering jazz musician incorporating the vast rhythmic heritage of Africa. His most famous compositions include, "Little Niles," "Blue Moses," and "Hi-Fly," and his 1960 album, "Uhuru Afrika," was a landmark recording that celebrated the independence movements in Africa and the influence of traditional African music on jazz. The record, which began with a freedom poem written by Langston Hughes, would later be banned by the South African apartheid regime, along with albums by Max Roach and Lena Horne. In 1961, Randy Weston visited Africa for the first time as part of a delegation that also featured Nina Simone. The trip would transform Weston's life and lead him to eventually moving to Africa in 1967. In 2001, he was named a Jazz Master by the National Endowment for the Arts — it is considered to be the nation's highest honor in jazz. Weston talks about his collaboration with Langston Hughes, how Marcus Garvey and Paul Robeson influenced his life, his friendship with the Nigerian afrobeat star Fela Kuti, and his success with "having people understand the impact of African rhythms in world music, whether it's Brazil or Cuba or Mississippi or Brooklyn. If you don't have that African pulse, nothing is happening," Weston said. Now 85 years old, Weston continues to tour the world, and in 2010, he published, "African Rhythms: The Autobiography of Randy Weston."
To watch the complete daily, independent news hour, read the transcript, download the podcast, and for additional Democracy Now! reports and interviews with other leading musicians, visit http://www.democracynow.org/
Transcript
AMYGOODMAN:
Today, in a Black History Month special, we spend the hour with the
legendary pianist and composer Randy Weston. For the past six decades,
Weston has been a pioneering jazz musician, incorporating the vast
rhythmic heritage of Africa. The poet Langston Hughes once wrote, quote,
“When Randy Weston plays, a combination of strength and gentleness,
virility and velvet, emerges from the keys in an ebb and flow of sound
seemingly as natural as the waves of the sea.” Randy Weston’s most
famous compositions include “Little Niles”, “Blue Moses,” and this tune,
“Hi-Fly.”
Randy Weston’s 1960 recording, Uhuru Afrika, was a landmark
recording that celebrated the independence movements in Africa and the
influence of traditional African music on jazz. The record, which began
with a freedom poem written by Langston Hughes, would later be banned by
the South African apartheid regime along with albums by Max Roach and
Lena Horne. In 1961, Randy Weston visited Africa for the first time as part of a
delegation that also featured Nina Simone. The trip would transform
Weston’s life and lead him to eventually move to Africa in 1967. In 2001, he was named a Jazz Master by the National Endowment for the
Arts. It’s considered to be the nation’s highest honor in jazz. Now 85
years old, Randy Weston continues to tour the world. In 2002, he
performed at the inauguration of the New Library of the Bibliotheca
Alexandrina in Egypt. In 2010, Weston played at the celebration of the
50th anniversary of Senegal’s founding as an independent republic.
Also in 2010, Duke University Press published African Rhythms: The Autobiography of Randy Weston. The book’s cover says it was composed by Randy Weston and arranged by Willard Jenkins. On Saturday, Randy Weston will lead his African Rhythms Orchestra at a
concert at the Tribeca Performing Arts Center here in New York at the
Borough of Manhattan Community College to celebrate James Reese Europe
& the Harlem Hellfighters. Last week, I sat down with Randy Weston at the Tribeca Performing Arts Center. I began by asking him to talk about his parents.
RANDYWESTON:
My dad was born in Panama. He lived seven years in Cuba. And he came to
Brooklyn and settled in Brooklyn. My mother came from Virginia, a small
town called Meredithville. And she came to New York, and they got
together to produce Randy Weston.
And I grew up in a very powerful, spiritual, cultural area in
Brooklyn, what they call Bedford-Stuyvesant, you see. We had to be in
the black church every Sunday. That was required. Everybody had to take
art. You had to take piano or trumpet or violin or dance. That was in
the neighborhood. And economically, everybody didn’t have money. But
culture, it was so wonderful. We had the blues bands on the corner. We
had the calypso. We had the big band rehearsals during the day.
And my dad gave me two things. He was very influential. He said,
number one, “My son, you are an African born in America. Therefore, you
have to study the history of Africa, when Africa had its great
civilizations, before colonialism, before slavery.” So, because of my
dad—
AMYGOODMAN: “You are an African born in America.”
RANDYWESTON:
Yes. Yeah, he was very clear about that, you see. To know your history,
because, he says, “You’re only going to get the history after
colonialism and after slavery.” So I had to go to the museums. I used to
read about the great empires of Egypt, of Songhai, of Ghana. And my dad
had maps on the wall, of African kings and queens, and books. In
addition, he made sure I took piano lessons, because I was six foot at
12 years old.
AMYGOODMAN: Six-foot tall at 12 years old.
RANDYWESTON:
And in those days, you know, I was a giant, right? I wanted to play
basketball or football. My father made me take piano lessons. So my dad
gave me Africa, he gave me music. My mom gave me the black church. But
the two of them, they kept me very spiritual. And I always saw the
similarities between African-American culture coming out of Virginia—my
mother—my African-Caribbean father coming out of Panama and Jamaica. So
that’s how I grew up. And the whole neighborhood was full of wonderful,
wonderful people, great leaders and great artists, a lot of inspiration.
AMYGOODMAN: Marcus Garvey—what role did he play, and, especially for young people today, who he was?
RANDYWESTON:
He was a super, super giant. You see, during that time—I’m talking
about ’30s, ’40s, ’50s—we produced some real giants, and he was
certainly one. His philosophy, Africa is our ancestral home. We were
taken away. And those of us who were taken away, we have to give back.
We have to rebuild our motherland, which is Africa. And all humanity
comes out of Africa anyhow. So, he was way ahead of his time. And he had
the biggest organization of African people up until today. There was
no—no computers, no aeroplanes. He traveled. He traveled all through the
States. He went to Europe. He went to the Caribbean. So he was a great
philosopher.
AMYGOODMAN: The United Negro Improvement Association.
RANDYWESTON:
Exactly. And he gave that pride to our people, because our history was
taken away. And, you know, your history of your ancestors is your
foundation. So he gave us that. So he was a very, very important man.
And my father loved Marcus Garvey. So we would have books on Marcus
Garvey in the house—J.A. Rogers, all these great people, Hansbury, yes.
AMYGOODMAN: So you started with classical music—
RANDYWESTON: Yes.
AMYGOODMAN: —but didn’t like it too much.
RANDYWESTON:
Well, because it didn’t swing, you know? [inaudible] I had a great
piano teacher. God bless her. She was a sweetheart. Fifty cents a
lesson. Hit my hand with a ruler when I made a mistake, and I was always
making a mistake, because I had long legs and big feet. I didn’t want
to practice, you know. But she gave me that foundation. Then, after
three years, she told my father, “Forget it. Your son will never play
the piano.” And I don’t blame her. In fact, and I got her picture in the
book, because she gave me that foundation, of that—of the women of that
time, how they had that dignity and pride and class, you know, and give
you those music lessons and want to make sure that you knew—played
those lessons.
AMYGOODMAN: But your father wouldn’t give up.
RANDYWESTON:
No way. He got another teacher, a guy named Professor Atwell, and he
knew a few popular songs. So he taught me the classic tradition of
piano, but also a few popular songs. And that’s how I got into start to
learn to play the piano.
AMYGOODMAN: So you’re playing music, and then World War II.
RANDYWESTON:
Yeah, yeah. Well, World War II, I was drafted in the Army, spent three
years in the Army. They have little local bands. But even before World
War II, we had small local bands in Brooklyn, you know? And we play
everything from polkas to marriages, you name it, you know? Little small
groups, people like the great Ray Copeland, people like Cecil Payne,
all these musicians. And we had the great Max Roach in Brooklyn. And a
lot of giants lived in Brooklyn. Eubie Blake lived in Brooklyn. So, the
world—and we had black musicians’ club at that time, you see. So we can
go to this club as kids and see the older musicians. They’d be playing
cards, or they have a blackboard. They say, “Son, you’re going to play
over there. Make sure you get $2, not $1.” So we had that respect and
love for the ancestors.
AMYGOODMAN: So who were you watching then? Who were you listening to?
RANDYWESTON: Oh, Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Coleman Hawkins, you know, Louis Armstrong, Art Tatum, Earl Hines.
AMYGOODMAN: Did you meet Louis Armstrong?
RANDYWESTON:
Yes, I shook his hand. That was enough. I shook his hand in Oklahoma
City when I made my first tour with a rhythm-and-blues band, Bullmoose
Jackson. And he was in the hotel room. He said, “Weston, you want to
meet Louis Armstrong?” “Of course I want to meet the king, you know.”
So, he was in the room, and I shook his hand. And that was it. But a
handshake I’ll never forget.
AMYGOODMAN: Count Basie.
RANDYWESTON:
Count Basie. Count Basie—I used to play opposite Count Basie at
Birdland when I started playing trio. I loved Basie because of his
touch, his class, and his love of the blues, because Basie played all
kind of blues. And I finally met him at a festival in Holland, of all
places. And I used to try to play like Count Basie. So when I saw him, I
said, “Count, I just want you to know how much I love you and how much
you gave me on the piano.” He said, “Oh, man, don’t talk like that.” But
Basie was very, very important.
AMYGOODMAN: And what about Thelonious Monk, Randy?
RANDYWESTON:
Thelonious Monk, the Magic Man. Thelonious Monk became in my life
because of my love for Coleman Hawkins. Coleman Hawkins was my idol.
Coleman Hawkins go back to the Fletcher Henderson days, in the early
’20s, you know, all the way up to the first one to record Dizzy, the
first one to record Monk, the first one to record Miles Davis—was
Coleman Hawkins.
So I used to go to 52nd Street all the time in those days. You can go
in these great clubs, one next to each other. All the masters of the
music—Louis Armstrong, Coleman Hawkins, you name it, you know? And I
went one night to hear Coleman Hawkins, and he had this guy playing the
piano. And what he was playing, I didn’t understand what he was playing.
I said, you know, “I don’t know what he’s doing with this guy, you
know? I can play more piano than this guy, you know.” But I went back,
and I discovered the genius of Monk, fell in love with his music, and
spent almost three years just hanging out with Monk, picking him up,
taking him to Brooklyn, taking him to my father’s house. My dad had a
restaurant at that time.
AMYGOODMAN: Trios?
RANDYWESTON:
Yeah, called Trios. We were open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. We
had the hippest jukebox in the world. On the jukebox, we had everybody
from Louis Jordan to Duke Ellington to Nat King Cole to Sarah Vaughan;
on the other side, Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Darius Milhaud. So musicians
would come all night long and argue: who is better, Coleman Hawkins or
Lester Young? So, culturally, it was an incredible period, because I
spent time, I listened to our royalty of this music.
AMYGOODMAN: The legendary jazz musician Randy Weston, as we continue this Black History Month special. [break] AMYGOODMAN: Randy Weston playing “Hi-Fly,” his song about being six-eight. This is Democracy Now!, democracynow.org, The War and Peace Report.
I’m Amy Goodman, as we return to my conversation as we sat at the
Tribeca Performing Arts Center in Lower Manhattan with the legendary
jazz pianist and composer Randy Weston. After serving in a segregated
Army unit during World War II, he returned to his home in Bed-Stuy,
Brooklyn. He later moved to the Berkshires in western Massachusetts, a
decision that changed his life.
RANDYWESTON:
After we came out of the Army, the powers that be put the heroin into
the black community. And they always picked the artists for drugs,
always, because the artists influenced the people, you know. And it was
spread throughout the neighborhood. And I wanted to get away. And
luckily, I had a good friend of mine, he was a semi-professional
basketball player. His name was Lefty Morris. And he played with a team
up in Lenox, Mass. He said, “Randy,” he said, “you go up to the
Berkshires. Take any kind of job,” he said, “because it’s full of music.
The Boston Symphony is there during the summer, chamber music. People
love music.” So that’s what I did. I went up there. I took—I was washing
dishes, doing everything.
AMYGOODMAN: And you were able to kick the habit totally there?
RANDYWESTON: I’m sorry?
AMYGOODMAN: You were able to kick the habit totally?
RANDYWESTON:
Yeah, yeah, because I needed a change of atmosphere, you see. So I was
very blessed. I met great people. I met everybody from Lukas Foss to
Leonard Bernstein. And I played with the—some of the members of the
Symphony Orchestra, because by that time they encouraged me, when I
wasn’t working in the kitchen, and I became a breakfast cook after a
while.
AMYGOODMAN: This is at the Music Inn?
RANDYWESTON: Yeah, at the Music Inn. And they heard me play the piano. And that’s when I decided—
AMYGOODMAN: So you were there, hired as a dishwasher.
RANDYWESTON: As a breakfast cook, actually. I was a dishwasher at the resort before the Music Inn, which was called Seven Hills.
AMYGOODMAN: And the folks that ran either Seven Hills or Music Inn heard you when they were just coming down late at night?
RANDYWESTON:
Exactly. In both places, actually. But Music Inn was important because
Professor Marshall Stearns, he was starting his series of lectures about
the history of African-American music. So because of Marshall, he
brought people like Mahalia Jackson, like Dan Burleigh, like Duke
Ellington, like Butterfly McQueen, Billy Taylor, Candido, Olatunji. He
had a global concept of African culture. I met John Lee Hooker because
of Marshall Stearns—Brownie McGhee and Sonny Terry. So I saw the whole
connection. Dr. Willis James from Spelman College, he specialized in
field cry hollers. So I understood more about the impact of African
civilization on world civilization.
AMYGOODMAN: Can you play a little, what inspired you at that time, what you were playing at that time?
RANDYWESTON: I was thinking about James Reese Europe, and—this great, great man who’s been forgotten about in our history, you know?
AMYGOODMAN: James Reese Europe.
RANDYWESTON: Yeah, yeah, phenomenal individual.
AMYGOODMAN: Born in the 19th century.
RANDYWESTON:
Exactly. Mobile, Alabama. He was a pianist, composer, from Washington
to New York, organized what they called the Clef Club. At that time,
everything was segregated. He formed the first black union. He had a
hotel in the 50s. It was called the Clef Club. Entertainers could come
there. He had seven orchestras, that you could play any kind of music in
these orchestras, all to musicians. Carnegie Hall 1912, with 125
musicians, with 10 pianos. And he said—this is before the word “jazz.”
The word “jazz” didn’t happen ’til 1915. Before then, it was just black
music, or African-American music or African music.
Then, in addition to that, he joined the U.S. Army, became a
lieutenant, got 60 musicians, went to Puerto Rico, got some more
musicians, went to France. They were the first ones to play this music.
And the French had never heard this music before. You see, because
during the war, the French soldiers and the American soldiers were
gassed by the Germans, so they had these cultural, spiritual,
therapeutic places in France, you know, where you get the thermal water
and whatnot. So, James Reese Europe played 25 cities in France after the
First World War.
AMYGOODMAN: When he played in Carnegie Hall—
RANDYWESTON: Yeah.
AMYGOODMAN: —was it an integrated orchestra?
RANDYWESTON: No, no. He was strictly black culture. He said, “We have a culture, African people.”
AMYGOODMAN: Can you play a little that inspires you?
RANDYWESTON: Yeah. I’m going to play a piece—I just thought about it. It’s called “In Memory Of.” [playing “In Memory Of”]
AMYGOODMAN: I want to get to you moving to Africa. But before that, Langston Hughes. Talk about meeting him and—
RANDYWESTON: Wow, wow.
AMYGOODMAN: —how he inspired you and what you did together.
RANDYWESTON: So many ways. Again, Marshall Stearns.
AMYGOODMAN: Marshall Stearns, the—
RANDYWESTON: Yeah.
AMYGOODMAN: —white professor.
RANDYWESTON: Yeah, yeah.
AMYGOODMAN: Western Mass.
RANDYWESTON:
Exactly. He brought Langston Hughes up to the Berkshires to the Music
Inn. And I met Langston—automatic connection between the two—and I was
very young. I wasn’t a professional pianist now. I’m playing at night,
and I’m cooking during the day, but I wasn’t a professional musician.
But to make a long story short, he knew my interest in Africa, knew my
interest in African culture. So as it turned out, in 1961, the very
first summit of African Americans going to Africa was in Nigeria. And
Langston was part of that movement.
And then, later on, when the great Melba Liston, whom we did the
“Freedom Africa Suite,” I asked Langston would he come and write a
freedom poem for me, because the African countries were just getting
their independence in 1960. Seventeen African countries got their
independence in 1960. So I wanted to create a work of music celebrating
this freedom of Africa. So Langston wrote a freedom poem for me, and
also he wrote the words, a song I call “African Lady.” That song was
dedicated to our mothers, our sisters, those African women who were
always in the background, who always supported us, you see. And then,
finally, we did—
AMYGOODMAN: Can you play a little?
RANDYWESTON: Oh, yeah. Oh, you mean, which one? “African Lady”? Sure. [playing “African Lady”]
AMYGOODMAN: You mentioned the freedom poem of Langston Hughes. Do you remember it?
RANDYWESTON:
Well, it’s like a—you know, what we did was this. As a boy, I was
always upset with Tarzan movies, you know, because the image of African
people in Hollywood was rather hard. That’s putting it mildly. The
image, you know. And I was always upset with what they called African
languages, like African people have no language, you know? So the
freedom poem, I wanted to put the freedom poem in an African language,
so when people hear the music, they realize the beauty of African
languages and that language began in Africa in the first place. OK? So I
went to Langston, and Langston—the freedom poem was like “Afrika
Uhuru,” which means “freedom.” Actually, my memory—
AMYGOODMAN: “Africa, where the great Congo flows!”
RANDYWESTON:
“Where the great Congo flows!” “Afrika Uhuru.” And “Uhuru” is
Kiswahili. And I—so, I went to the United Nations. I talked to a number
of diplomats at that time. I said, how could I use one African language?
There’s so many languages in Africa. How could I choose one? So the
general consensus was, use Kiswahili. So I had this guy, his name was
Tuntemeke Sanga from Tanzania—Tanganyika at that particular time. And he
was a scholar of Swahili. So what he did, he took Langston’s poem from
English to Kiswahili. And his diction and his voice was so wonderful, we
used him on the recording of Uhuru Afrika.
[excerpt of Uhuru Afrika
AMYGOODMAN: Randy Weston, talk about the making of Uhuru Afrika, one of the great albums that you’re known for.
RANDYWESTON: Well, Melba Liston, truly one of the greatest arrangers in the history of our music, without question.
AMYGOODMAN: She had worked with Dizzy Gillespie.
RANDYWESTON:
Yes, she worked with Dizzy. I heard her with Dizzy, playing trombone,
heard her arrangement of “My Reverie.” And the arrangement was—
AMYGOODMAN: She played trombone.
RANDYWESTON: Yeah, she was—
AMYGOODMAN: Now this is rare.
RANDYWESTON:
—a great trombonist. I know. She’s the only woman I heard play a
trombone. And she’s with Dizzy’s orchestra at Birdland. I was there this
night, and she’s got this big sound. I said, I never heard a woman
playing trombone before.
AMYGOODMAN: What year is this?
RANDYWESTON:
This had to be early '50s, early ’50s, because we collaborated in ’58
for the first time. So when she came off the bandstand, I said, I've got
to meet this lady. You know, I shook her hand—like electricity between
us. So, as it turned out, she moved to New York. She was originally from
Kansas City, lived in Los Angeles. And she, like Mary Lou Williams—Mary
Lou was living in Harlem. So they knew each other. These are two queens
of music, these two, you know. So, I got together with her, and we had
the same feeling.
You see, artistically, I guess Paul Robeson said it best: An artist
is responsible to fight for freedom. An artist is responsible to change
society. That’s how Paul put it, very great. Not only do you have to be
good at your craft, but you have to make a contribution to society, you
know. And what better contribution than we make to the African people,
because they’re put on the bottom of the human scale, you know? No
education, we’ve contributed nothing, blah blah blah blah.
So, I wanted to do this suite, African suite, and it was in four
movements. The first movement was called “Uhuru Kwansa,” which in
Kiswahili means “Freedom First.” The second movement was called “African
Lady.” The third movement was called “Bantu.” And the fourth movement
was named “Kucheza Blues.” Where in the world recognizes the
contribution of Africa to civilization, especially in art and music?
We’re going to celebrate. We’re going to place the music in Fiji and in
Brazil and Congo. We’ll have a big world celebration.
So, Melba, thanks to her, she got some of the great musicians in the
orchestra, incredible musicians. Trumpet section: Freddie Hubbard,
Richard Williams, Benny Bailey, Clark Terry. Trombone section: Slide
Hampton, Jimmy Cleveland, Quentin Jackson. Julius Watkins on French
horn. Saxophone section: Yusef Lateef, Sahib Shihab, Cecil Payne, Gigi
Gryce, Jerome Richardson, OK? Kenny Burrell, guitar. Les Spann on guitar
and also flute. Now, the rhythm section was powerful. Ron Carter on
bass. George Duvivier on bass. Percussion: Candido, Armando Peraza—
AMYGOODMAN: Candido, the Cuban musician.
RANDYWESTON:
Yeah, him and Armando Peraza, the great bongo player from Cuba.
Olatunji from Nigeria. We had Charlie Persip coming out of upper
Massachusetts. You know, but the whole idea—and we had two singers: Al
Minns and Leon James. And Max Roach played marimba.
AMYGOODMAN: Can you play some more?
RANDYWESTON: Yeah, sure. Which one do you want to hear?
AMYGOODMAN: You choose.
RANDYWESTON: OK. This is “Kucheza Blues,” the last movement of Uhuru. [playing “Kucheza Blues”]
AMYGOODMAN: 1960, you finish Uhuru Afrika.
We’re talking about—this is after Rosa Parks sits down on the bus,
1955, in Montgomery, Alabama, also Africa, what is happening throughout
the countries in Africa, the independence movements.
RANDYWESTON: Sure.
AMYGOODMAN: You want to get this produced, this album. Do you have trouble?
RANDYWESTON:
Yeah, because at that time, you know, the whole idea is separation,
separating our people, to say Africa has no history, so don’t look back.
But see, I had a great mother and father, because that generation, they
only told you a few words. And my father always said, he said, “They
tell you ’don’t look back.’” He said, “Always look back.” So what he
meant is that my ancient ancestors go back to the great civilizations of
Egypt and Songhai and Ghana. He said, “We come from royalty.” You see, I
was so lucky. That was with my dad, you see? So, for me, it’s always
been that way of thinking. Who was Louis Armstrong’s grandmother and his
grandfather? Where did that music come from? So I had to go to Africa
to understand that music was created in Africa. And music was created
from the universe, because our ancient ancestors, they knew that music
came from the universe. It was the Creator’s way of giving the people on
earth some healing, some beauty—music, you see. So, you know, I got all
that incredible history, but it came from Mom and Pop, remembering
certain things that they told me.
AMYGOODMAN: Can you talk a little about African Cookbook and how you came to make that album?
RANDYWESTON: Well, again, that was during my period of wanting to write music about Africa, and I found out—
AMYGOODMAN: Before you moved there?
RANDYWESTON:
Yeah, yeah, absolutely, yeah. I found out that the—I heard the African
six-eight rhythm, you know. And when I found out that rhythm—
AMYGOODMAN: What does that mean? RANDYWESTON:
One, two, three, four, five, six, one, two, three, four, five, six. So
that rhythm, you can dance if you’re two years old or if you’re 90. OK?
So that rhythm, I wanted to have that rhythm, which represents the
southern part of Africa. [plays in 6/8] So I wanted to do that. I wanted
the melody to represent the northern part of Africa. [plays northern
African melody] So the melody would represent the north, you see. So
that’s how it was. And we had—I had a great group. The great Mr. Big
Black, one of our greatest, greatest percussionists, came originally
from the South, South Carolina, close to the Geechee people, the people
outside of South Carolina, very close to Africa. And Bill Wood was on
bass. And that’s how I created African Cookbook. And it was
partly named for Booker Ervin, too, because he was such a great
saxophonist, and sometimes he would play so good, we would say, “Cook,
Book! Cook!” You know. So it was a combination of those things at the
time.
AMYGOODMAN: Legendary jazz musician, Randy Weston, here on Democracy Now! [break]
AMYGOODMAN: This is Democracy Now!, democracynow.org, The War and Peace Report.
I’m Amy Goodman, as we continue with the great Jazz Master, Randy
Weston, as we sat together on the stage of the Tribeca Performing Arts
Center, where he’s performing on Saturday night.
AMYGOODMAN: So you go to Africa, 1961?
RANDYWESTON: Yes.
AMYGOODMAN: Where did you go?
RANDYWESTON:
Nigeria, yeah. There were 29 of us, the first pilgrimage to go home to
the motherland. And some of the people were Geoffrey Holder, Brock
Peters, myself, eight members of Lionel Hampton’s band, Natalie
Hinderas, great concert pianist.
AMYGOODMAN: You were on a State Department tour.
RANDYWESTON: No, this wasn’t the State Department.
AMYGOODMAN: No.
RANDYWESTON:
No, no. This was an organization called the American Society of African
Culture. And they used to bring African artists to New York, Ethiopian
painters, singers from Nigeria. So they already had that organization.
And they had a base in Lagos. So we—I had Al Minns and Leon James, two
of the great jazz dancers from the Savoy Ballroom. Dr. Willis James was
there. Dr. Horace Bond was there. So there were 29. Nina Simone was
there, Ahmed Abdul-Malik—
AMYGOODMAN: Nina Simone was there.
RANDYWESTON: Yeah. We all—
AMYGOODMAN: You knew Nina Simone well.
RANDYWESTON:
We all went together. Yeah. And we spent 10 wonderful days to see what
was the relationship of African-American culture and African-Nigerian
culture. So we’d have two jazz dancers on this side of the stage, have
some traditional dancers on this side of the stage, because we wanted to
know where these rhythms come from. And they all come from Africa, all
come from Africa, you know. And so, I would hang out at night in the
clubs. That’s where I met the great Bobby Benson. Bobby Benson owned a
club called the Caban Bamboo in Lagos. He played incredible guitar, and
he also was a drummer. And because of him, I’d be there every night, and
I heard all the young West African musicians. And I played with Fela in
1963, when he played trumpet.
AMYGOODMAN: Fela Kuti.
RANDYWESTON: Yeah.
AMYGOODMAN: Nigeria.
RANDYWESTON:
Yeah, Nigeria in the '60s, before he played saxophone, you see. And so,
I came in contact, but what was more important, on the weekend, he
would bring the traditional people from Nigeria. It was my first live
contact with African traditional music. And when you hear the
traditional music of Africa, you go to school, for they do things with
music we cannot do. Why? Because their music captured the spirit of the
continent itself. And the continent itself was swinging before man ever
arrived, you know. You watch the way the crocodiles and the
elephants—everything is in rhythm. Everything is in rhythm. The birds,
everything is in rhythm. So early man listened to the nature of Mother
Africa, and that's the foundation of world music, you see. So it was a
wonderful trip, because it was my first introduction to Africa.
And when we arrived about 11:00 at night, myself and Geoffrey Holder
and Brock Peters, we were the tallest of the group. And they must have
had about 50 African drummers, and we smelled that air of the continent,
and I said, “Wow! My ancestors were taken away from Africa in slavery.
And how blessed we are we’re coming back to Africa in an airplane, and
we hear all these drums, you know.” So some of us kissed the ground,
yeah, because we know that’s our ancestral home, yeah.
AMYGOODMAN:
Randy Weston, so you’ve taken us through your first journey in Africa.
You come back home, and you decide to fight discrimination against black
musicians, African-American musicians.
RANDYWESTON: Yes, yeah.
AMYGOODMAN: Talk about forming this organization.
RANDYWESTON:
Well, it was Ray Bryant, the great pianist. We had Louis Brown, the
saxophonist. Nadi Qamar, he played piano and also kalimba, African
music. We had John Handy and Sadik Hakim. And we had a three-day
conference at the Reverend Weston’s church in Harlem, three days. And
the whole idea, we were the first ones to get anti-discrimination
clauses in union contracts, because you have to remember, during the
time of James Reese Europe, it was separate unions, completely separate,
you see. James was the first one to organize African-American
musicians, and we had musicians’ clubs in Brooklyn, Harlem. The last one
now is in Buffalo, New York, of all places. It’s called the Last
Musicians Colored Club, it’s called, in Buffalo, yeah. So, we had a
three-day conference. And we had the women come and cook all the food.
So we invited A. Philip Randolph.
AMYGOODMAN: A. Philip Randolph—
RANDYWESTON: Yes.
AMYGOODMAN: —the organizer of the Sleeping Car Porters.
RANDYWESTON: Exactly.
AMYGOODMAN: The organizer of the—what? 1963 March on Washington?
RANDYWESTON: Exactly.
AMYGOODMAN: Was this the same time?
RANDYWESTON:
The same time. This was 1960 or '61, one of the two. And he came, and
he spoke to us about about labor conditions, what we can do to better
our rights as musicians. It was hard to get gigs. Racism was as usual,
you know. And on the second day, we had Professor John Henrik Clarke.
And John Henrik Clarke told us our history as an African people, because
you have to know your history, you have to know Africa when Africa was
great, because you're not going to get it in the school system, and
you’re not going to get it in Hollywood. OK? So we had a three-day
conference, and we formed the organization. But, you know, we were
frustrated musicians. I’m not an organizer. But we kept together one
year. We invited recording companies. We tried to help musicians, tried
to help these great musicians. We were working in clubs with terrible
conditions, no dressing rooms. You see people like Monk, like Dexter
Gordon, these giants, working in clubs with no place to even change
their clothes, you see.
AMYGOODMAN: Very different from white musicians?
RANDYWESTON: Yeah, you see. Well, sometimes white musicians have the same conditions, but they could go back home.
AMYGOODMAN: Right before you move to Africa, your now-close friend Langston Hughes dies.
RANDYWESTON: Yes.
AMYGOODMAN: He requests, when he was still alive, that you would perform at his funeral.
RANDYWESTON: Exactly.
AMYGOODMAN: What did you perform?
RANDYWESTON:
All blues. Langston’s secretary called me on the phone. He said,
“Langston has passed away, and he wants you to play his funeral.” I
said, “What?” With a trio. OK? I knew Langston loved the blues with a
passion. So we got to the funeral home, and Langston is laying in the
coffin, you know, and we were on this side. And about 200 people. Dr.
Ralph Bunche was there. Lena Horne was there.
AMYGOODMAN: Dr. Ralph Bunche of the United Nations.
RANDYWESTON:
Yes, yeah. Lena Horne was there. You know, all the heavyweights. Arna
Bontemps was there. So, he said, “You start it.” So what I did was I
played one hour of blues for Langston. And he was such an incredible
human being, Langston Hughes, that the secretary called me about two
weeks later. He said, “Make sure the musicians get union scale.” So he
was putting us on even when he passed away.
But he was a great man, because he was—he knew the importance of
African-American music. He knew that the spirituals and the blues was
revolutionary music. He knew that without this music, we would never
have survived anything, you see? But the music has always been put in
the background, but if it wasn’t for that music, we would have gone
nowhere. But with those songs of Billie Holiday and Duke and Basie and
Louis Jordan, they lift our spirits as a people. So Langston was
incredible.
AMYGOODMAN: Can you play a little of what you played that day?
RANDYWESTON: Well, I’ll play the blues. [playing blues]
AMYGOODMAN: Randy Weston, blues for Langston Hughes. 1967—
RANDYWESTON: Yeah.
AMYGOODMAN: Langston Hughes dies in May.
RANDYWESTON: Right.
AMYGOODMAN: And before the end of the year, you’ve moved to Africa.
RANDYWESTON: Yeah.
AMYGOODMAN: Talk about that decision and where you went.
RANDYWESTON:
Well, I’m sure it’s because of Marshall Stearns. He was on the State
Department board. That’s for sure. Unfortunately, Marshall died before I
had a chance to thank him. But I was chosen to do a State Department
tour of 14 countries in 1967 of North Africa and West Africa and Beirut
and Lebanon. And I put together a great band: Clifford Jordan on tenor
saxophone, Ray Copeland on trumpet, Bill Wood on bass, and Ed Blackwell
on drums, and Chief Bey on African drum. And I took my son with me, as a
teen—he was 15, Niles, at that particular time. And we had a wonderful,
wonderful tour. And I requested, whatever country we went to, I would
like to be in touch with the traditional music of that country.
And so, we spent three months in Africa. And it was a good test for
me, because, you know, you can write music about Africa in New York, but
the test is when you play that music on the continent itself.
When I play music in Africa, I tell the people, “This is your music.
You may not recognize it, because it came in contact with European
languages, it came in contact with European instruments, you see. But
it’s your music, you know.” And I always had Chief Bey, because Chief
Bey always had the African traditional drum. So we had a big success in
Africa, because it was not only a concert, but having the people
understand the impact of African rhythms in world music, whether it’s
Brazil or Cuba or Mississippi or Brooklyn, whatever. If you don’t have
that African pulse, nothing is happening.
AMYGOODMAN: So you move, Randy Weston, to Morocco. Why Morocco?
RANDYWESTON:
Morocco was the very last country, and that’s when I wanted to live in
Africa, because I wanted to be closer to the traditional people. And
when you do a State Department tour, you have to make a report: what you
like, what you didn’t like, etc., etc., etc. So I stayed in Rabat for
one week working on this report. And so, I went back to New York. About
one month later, I got these letters from Morocco saying the Moroccan
people are crazy about your music, and they want you to come back. So I
had no idea I was going to be in Morocco, because, number one, the
languages spoken are Arabic, Berber, French, Spanish—very little
English, you see. But the power of music is the original language, is
music, right? So I went back and ended up staying seven years. And
that’s when I discovered the Africans who were taken in slavery who had
to cross the Sahara Desert. I discovered these [inaudible]. I discovered
their music, the Gnawa people in particular in Morocco. So that really
enriched my life.
AMYGOODMAN: Talk about the Gnawa people.
RANDYWESTON:
Yeah, the Gnawa people, they’re originally from the great kingdoms of
Songhai, Ghana, Mali, you know. And during the invasion from the north,
they were taken as slaves and soldiers up to the north. But they created
a very powerful spiritual music. And so, I first met them in 1967, and
we’ve been together up until this day, because when you hear this music,
you hear the origin of blues, of jazz, of black church, all at the same
time. You realize that. In other words, what has Mother Africa
contributed to America? What has African people brought with them?
Because when they were taken away, they had no instruments, no language,
no nothing. How did they take these European instruments and create
music? But when you hear the traditional people, you realize, music
began in Africa in the first place. And the music is so diverse, because
the continent itself is so diverse. So if you go to the Sahara, you’re
going to have music of the Sahara. You go to the mountains, you’re going
to have the music, because African people create music based upon where
they live, their environment. So I grew up in Brooklyn, New York, so I
was influenced by the Palladium, by the black church, by the blues,
Mississippi. So where you—you know, it is the foundation of what you do.
AMYGOODMAN: Can you play “Blue Moses” a little bit?
RANDYWESTON: Of course. [playing “Blue Moses”]
AMYGOODMAN: Randy Weston, you often quote the Somali poet Moussa.
RANDYWESTON:
Yes. Yeah, he said—Moussa, I met him in Nigeria in 1977. He said,
“Randy,” he said, “I’m going to tell you one thing.” He said, “The first
thing that changes is the music, because music is the voice of God, is
music.” He said, “Music is our first language.” We think French or
English or Arabic or Spanish is our language. There was a time we didn’t
have those languages. The language was music, because we listened to
the music of the birds. We listened to the music of Mother Nature. We
listened to the wind, the sound of thunder. So, he says, “When you have
ordinary music, you’re going to have ordinary times.” Yeah, and I’ll
never forget that, yeah. And when you have creative music, you have
creative times, because music—you can’t see music. You can’t touch
music. Music is the king of the arts, you see. And so, music is
everywhere. But we tend to take music for granted. But imagine our
planet without music. It would be dead, because all people have their
music, you see.
AMYGOODMAN: Back in Nigeria, music is also a means of political expression.
RANDYWESTON: Of course.
AMYGOODMAN: You saw Fela Kuti perform two weeks before the Nigerian military raided the shrine—
RANDYWESTON: Yes.
AMYGOODMAN: —in his home, threw his mother out the window.
RANDYWESTON: Right.
AMYGOODMAN: Can you talk about what that moment was like, when you saw him perform, and what he was performing?
RANDYWESTON:
He was the most courageous musician I ever met in my life, Fela. He
wanted to be the—Africa to be free. He wanted Africa to have its own
everything, because, see, Africa is so rich. That’s why everybody’s
there taking something, you know. Way before slavery, they were taking
from Africa, because everything is there. Everything is there. So
he—symbolically, spiritually, the president of Africa. But what he meant
was, for Africa, African unity, you see. And sometimes, the powers that
be don’t like that kind of freedom. And he was fearless, you know.
Yeah, and I’ll never forget the last time I saw him, you know, and I
was so proud of Fela. I was so proud, because he demonstrated, which
Paul demonstrated, an artist just playing your instrument is not enough.
You have this talent for a reason. And you always got to serve the
community, got to serve humanity, one way or the other. Then you are a
true artist, you see? And that’s what Fela, that’s what Paul, that’s
what all these people were like.
AMYGOODMAN: The great Jazz Master, Randy Weston, he turns 86 in April. I interviewed him on the stage of the BMCC
Tribeca Performing Arts Center in Manhattan, where he’ll be performing
on Saturday night. If you’d like to see the full interview, go to our
website at democracynow.org, where you can also order a copy.
"In Africa I discovered what the true
purpose of a musician is.
We are historians,
and it is our purpose to tell the people
the
true story of our past, and to extend a
better vision of the future."
--Randy Weston
In Loving Memory of
Dr. RANDY WESTON
Entered into time: April 6, 1926
Joined the ancestors: September 1, 2018 Remembering Randy Weston with the Africans Rhythms Quintet & Special Guests
November 2, 2018, Marrakech, Morocco
LXR Festival www.lxr.habtivoyage.com
Cover photo by Carol Friedman
"African Rhythms is unlike anything I've ever read.
Randy Weston -pianist, composer, bandleader, activist, ambassador, visionary, griot - takes the reader on a most spectacular spiritual journey from Brooklyn to Africa, around the world and back again.
He tells a story of this great music that has never been told in print: tracing its African roots and branches, acknowledging the ancestors who helped bring him to the music and draw the music from his soul, singing praise songs for those artistic and intellectual giants whose paths he crossed, from Langston Hughes to Melba Liston, Dizzy to Monk, Marshall Stearns to Cheikh Anta Diop.
And in the process, Mr. Weston bares his soul, revealing a man overflowing with ancient wisdom, humility, respect for history, and a capacity for creating some of the most astoundingly beautiful music the modern world has ever experienced."
Pianist Randy Weston, an NEA Jazz Master, Doris Duke
Impact Award recipient, United States Artist Fellow and Guggenheim
Foundation Fellow, died Sept. 1 in Brooklyn. He was 92. A DownBeat Hall of Fame inductee, Weston remained active in recent years, performing live and issuing 2016’s The African Nubian Suite
(African Rhythms), a two-CD recording of a 2012 concert performance at
New York University featuring an international cast of musicians, and
2017’s Sound (African Rhythms), a two-CD solo piano recording from a 2001 engagement at Montreux Palace in Switzerland. Throughout his lengthy recording career, which began with his 1954 debut, Cole Porter In A Modern Mood
(Riverside), Weston drew connections between the jazz and blues that
surrounded him while growing up in Brooklyn, New York, and the music of
Africa, his ancestral homeland. Africa became the theme of numerous Weston albums, many with arrangements by Melba Liston. They include Uhuru Africa (1960), Highlife (1963), African Cookbook (1969) and Blue Moses
(1972). He first visited Africa in 1961 and then again in 1963 as a
part of The American Society of African Culture. Weston traveled
throughout the continent in 1967 for the U.S State Department and
settled in Tangiers, Morocco, where he remained for five years and
operated a venue called the African Rhythms Club. Weston held honorary doctor of music degrees from Colby College,
Brooklyn College and New England Conservatory of Music. He served as
artist-in-residence at New York University, the New School and Medgar
Evers College at City University of New York. In 2010, Duke University Press published African Rhythms: The Autobiography of Randy Weston, written by Weston and arranged by Willard Jenkins. His decades of work are archived at Harvard University. DB
Our Mike Shanley spoke with jazz pianist Randy Weston for
this week's issue; only a short version of that piece ran online, so
here's a less-abridged version. Randy Weston grew up in Brooklyn’s Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood,
becoming friends with musicians like jazz pianist Thelonious Monk. In
his late 20s, Weston decided to devote himself to playing the same
instrument.. He has traveled throughout the world, incorporating
numerous influences into his playing. He comes to the New Hazlett
Theater with his African Rhythms Quartet on Sat., Oct. 26 at 8 p.m. Call
1-888-718-4253 for info.
You have said you feel like you’re a storyteller, not a jazz musician. Can you elaborate on that? Well,
my wonderful travels in the world are because of music. And music is
the star, not Randy Weston. And music is spiritual. It’s taken me from
Bed-Stuy growing up, to the black church, the blues, [playing in a] big
band and all over Asia and Africa. So I tell stories about my
experiences, about African-American culture, African culture and the
spirituality in music itself. I spent seven years in Africa. I
traveled to 18 countries in Africa. I looked at the oldest musicians I
could find, the oldest music I could listen to. When we grew up as kids
in Brooklyn, we always hung out with our elders, you see? So I tell
stories of these great people before us: my mom, my dad, going all the
way back to African civilization.
What was it like, meeting these musicians? They’re
very traditional people. They’re all in tune with nature, the universe,
the galaxy. They have a different concept of music. But they also keep
the stories alive of their particular society. So I feel it makes you
understand better, [questions like] who was Louis Armstrong, who was
Duke Ellington? They were not only great musicians, with the music they
played, they told the story of African-American life in the ’20s, in the
’30s, in the ’40s. That’s why they were storytellers. So I try to pass
on that tradition and respect and love of those artists that came before
me, who sacrificed a lot to produce this music that we call jazz or
blues or samba, reggae whatever.
Can you call your music “jazz”? Jazz doesn’t
really give the full story. What have African people contributed to the
US? America is so young, compared to most countries on the planet. So
what we call jazz is African-Americans’ contribution to the United
States. So if you look at it that way, it gives you the understanding,
also the genius and the spirituality of all these people. How do they do
what they do? How do they make music out of a broom, out of a bottle?
In Africa, people make music out of anything. For them, music is the
voice of the creator. And I think about my mom and dad. How did they
keep us so spiritual? They made sure we went to church every Sunday.
They made sure we were spiritual, made sure we had our pride, our
dignity, no matter what. So they are the heroes. [Laughs} That piano
teacher that was 50 cents a lesson and hit my hands with a ruler if I
made a mistake. She made sure I practiced that piano! I want
everybody to understand more about what African people have contributed
to America. I think if they understand that, we’d have a different
approach of who we are, what we did, despite all the slavery and the
racism. But all the beauty that we gave, it’s amazing. I was lucky
to have known Duke Ellington. I knew Count Basie. I met Billie Holiday
and shook Louis Armstrong’s hand. I shook Mahalia Jackson’s hand. In my
life I’ve been so blessed to meet these people that have never been
given the proper credit for what they’ve given to America.
Did you know Thelonious Monk well? I hung out
with him! In the beginning, I didn’t understand what Monk was doing. But
then I heard something. I met him and we hung out for about three
years. I’d pick him up at his house in Manhattan and bring him back to
Brooklyn, we’d go to places. He never said much, but his music…. For me,
you can’t call this music jazz. This music is in touch with the ancient
civilizations, the galaxies, the planets. By hanging out with him, I
understood better [stride pianist] James P. Johnson, Ellington, all the
people that preceded him, the history of piano. So the further you go
back, you realize how humble you have to be today. And how they did what
they did. It’s a miracle. Ironically, I never heard a musician say
to another musician, “We’re going to go play some jazz.” Interesting,
huh? Instead, [they’ll say], “We’re going to play Duke’s music or Billie
Holiday’s music or Benny Goodman’s music.” We never use the word.
You didn’t start playing piano professional until you were in your late 20s. How come? Well
you can understand why. People like Art Tatum and Earl Hines and Nat
Cole and Duke! Erroll Garner — all those people [were] around. So to
call yourself a pianist, you gotta be careful! That was royalty. I
used to go to [1920s ragtime pianist] Eubie Blake’s house and hang out
with him. We’d go hear Willie “The Lion” Smith [another stride pianist
who had been playing since the ‘20s]. Those people. You call yourself a
pianist, you better be quiet! [laughs] And if they were alive today,
I’d be a little boy. Not to mention Bud Powell. There were all those
people who played this music and did it a different way. Earl Hines did
it this way, Monk this way, Count Basie this way. On the same
instrument! So that’s why it took me a long time to decide to be a
professional musician.
When you play with the African Rhythm Quartet, how do you plan a set? We
always try to bring on some of the traditional rhythms of Africa. So
people can feel where it’s come from. I spent years with the people of
Morocco, the Gnawa. They were taken in slavery. So they maintain a very
powerful spiritual music. From there, maybe we’ll go to the blues.
But we’re just trying to tell a story of the history of African music.
At the same time we all come from the motherland, everybody on the
planet. It’s a combination of all those things. I always tell the
audience, “You’re a part of this band, because we’re going to take the
trip together.” By the magic of music, it’s amazing how you look at the
audience and see all the shades of the rainbow. Different colors,
genders and ages. When the music is right, everybody becomes in tune
with the music.
Randy Weston's latest album, The African Nubian Suite, continues a 60-year-commitment to bridging cultures through music. Ariane Smolderen/Courtesy of the artist
At the height of the Cold War, the United States was also fighting
a culture war. To counter Soviet propaganda, the U.S. State Department
launched a public relations campaign called the Jazz Ambassadors
program, sending Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, and Dave Brubeck and other leading jazz musicians on tours around the world. Randy Weston was one of them. Those world tours cemented Weston's commitment to bridging cultures through music, a task he continues on a new album, called The African Nubian Suite. "Today everything is fast," says the pianist and composer, who turns 91 in a few weeks. "The computer is fast. Everything, blah blah blah
— people don't slow down. But when we hear this traditional music, they
can take one note and touch your heart, you know? Touch places that
you've forgotten about." Whether it's Highlife from West Africa
or Sufi music from Morocco, the traditional music of Africa has
informed Weston's jazz for some 60 years. It's a journey that began in
segregated Brooklyn in the 1920s, where his parents taught him that he
was an American-born African.
"They
taught me where I come from. Said, 'There's a lot of lies out there in
the streets out there about you, but in the house you're going to learn
the truth,'" Weston says. "When you study and read about the great
African empires, which is where music was created, you understood you
had a lot to learn about what we do." Weston learned from the great pianist Thelonious Monk
and made well-received albums right out of the gate. At the same time,
he was seeing the world outside New York changing — according to Robin
Kelley, a UCLA professor whose book Africa Speaks, America Answers
explores the influence of African music on jazz. Kelley says Weston was
incorporating African influence into his music even before his first
State Department tour in 1965. "He came into this musical
relationship with a political agenda — and that is to support the
independence of former colonies in Africa and the rest of the world, to
make sure that African-Americans, in their fight for civil rights, would
be part of a global struggle for a justice," Kelley says. Weston's
14-country African tour came to a close in Morocco. By that point he'd
fallen in love with the continent and decided to move to the Moroccan
port city of Tangier. "[I had] no Spanish, no French, no
Arabic, no Berber," he says. "I come here with love and music and how
the people treated me and how they treated my children. I had my
children in Morocco. It was so beautiful." Weston became a
presence in Tangier. He opened a club called the African Rhythms
Cultural Center, and programmed everything to show the cultural
connections: from R&B to jazz to the spiritual music of the Gnawa
people of Morocco. Hisham Aidi, a Moroccan-American writer who now
teaches at Columbia University, grew up in Tangier and says he still
remembers what has parents told him about Weston. "Before I was
born, Randy used to live in our street, Rue de Gibraltar. When my
father was wooing my mother, he took her to see Randy perform at Cinema
Alhambra," Aidi recalls. "So growing up, you hear stories about this
man, this 6' 8" giant, and what he did for the music of our town." Weston eventually did move back to the U.S., but he says that by that point, his piano had become an African instrument. "If
you look at the piano, inside is a harp. A harp is one of the oldest
African instruments," Weston explains. "When I touch the piano, it
becomes an African instrument. It's no longer a European instrument. I
say that in a positive way, not a negative way." Professor Kelley says Weston's latest album presents that message in song. "The African NubianSuite
involves millions of years' worth of history in this profound
composition," Kelley says. "And here he is at 90 years old: He hasn't
stopped because he feels like the message still needs to get out there.
He still has a lot of work he's trying to do." On a personal
note, Weston says his musical journey was inspired by a deeper question:
a desire to renew a connection with his own severed past as an African. "I
wonder how it's possible that we could come here to America in chains,
on a boat, packed like sardines — our ancestors couldn't speak English,
couldn't speak French — how they were able to take European instruments
and do something that has never happened before," Weston says. "How is
that possible? I still don't understand it. But when I hear African
traditional music, I get the message."
At Age 86, Pianist Randy Weston Is Still Pursuing His Lifelong Quest February 28, 2017
RANDY WESTON
It's
America in the early 1930s and Randy Weston is growing up in New York
City, where all of the era's social changes -- including the Great
Depression and an increasing influx of non-European immigrants -- are
evident to both him and his parents. In fact, according to Weston's
biography, African Rhythms, Weston's father, a restauranteur of
Jamaican descent who was born in Panama, tells his son, "Never forget
what you are. You're an African. Though you were born here in the United
States, you are an African. An African born in America, do you
understand? Wherever you travel all over this planet, you must always
come back to her." In retrospect, it's easy to understand why Weston would, during a
stellar career as a jazz pianist, fuse African rhythms and musical
structures into the American art form he first learned in the clubs of
New York. And it's easy to understand why in the '60s and '70s Weston
would settle in Africa, making a home for himself in Tangier, Morocco
like other American expatriates, including Paul Bowles and William
Burroughs. He was different from Bowles and Burroughs in two crucial
respects: Weston was a family man, taking his children with him to the
continent; and Weston is black, his mission in Africa was to showcase
the deep connections between Africa and the African diaspora. That's
still his mission, which is why Weston is in such a state of despair. In
the United States, he says, new generations of Americans lack even a
passing understanding of Africa's historic importance to jazz and other
cultural traditions that we now think of as strictly "American." "If more people understood the contributions of Africans to
civilization, it'd be a different world," Weston tells me in a phone
interview from his home in New York. "People know little about Africa's
contribution to America. Slavery was a sad story, but a beautiful story
came out of it through the emergent blues and jazz traditions."
Now
86, Weston has been in the top tier of his profession for the past 50
years, and he continues to accrue the honors of someone who has no plans
to stop. Last year, the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation named
him a fellow in its prestigious program. The year before, Harlem's
Apollo Theater honored Weston for his long career. And the year before
that, the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP)
inducted Weston into its Jazz Wall of Fame, putting him in the same
company as Billie Holiday, Coleman Hawkins and Charlie Parker. Weston
had personal connections to all three jazz icons (as an up-and-coming
artist, Weston once performed for Parker at the house of drummer Max
Roach). More than any U.S. jazz artist still touring, Weston is a living
bridge to America's jazz past, and to the promise that jazz can regain a
popular foothold in the United States. In recent years, polls have documented jazz's precipitous decline in
audience appeal, especially among younger audiences. A 2009 survey by
the Jazz Audiences Initiative showed that only 17 percent of jazz
ticket-buyers are under the age of 45. And overall, according to the
initiative, jazz-goers are devoting a much smaller proportion of their
overall collections to jazz than in years past. Like other jazz
stalwarts, Weston thinks this trend can be reversed through education
programs, particularly programs aimed at school-aged children. "They took music education out of schools, and children don't know
about jazz," Weston told me. "Everyone should know who Louis Armstrong
is. We have to get to the 4- and 5-year-olds, and let them know jazz is
the only new music of the 20th century. Jazz is the classic music of
America." "In the '50s and '60s," Weston adds, "jazz music was always being
presented on television, like on the Jackie Gleason show. Today, it has
absolutely no (place) on television." I first saw Weston perform at the 1996 Festival of World Sacred Music
in Morocco, then at a 2008 arts conference in Tangier. Both times,
Weston played with Gnawa musicians, African-Moroccan artists whose
centuries-old, string-based music provides an ideal counterpoint to
Weston's piano jazz. Weston's albums feature this same seamless
intertwining, with African rhythms playing off of Weston's keyboard
work. On his 1960 release, Uhuru Afrika, poet Langston Hughes
contributed lyrics, which were translated into Kiswahili, for Weston's
song, "African Lady." In the album's liner notes, Hughes wrote, "When
Randy Weston plays, a combination of strength and gentleness, virility
and velvet, emerges from the keys in an ebb and flow of sound seemingly
as natural as the waves of the sea." I would add this: Having met Weston in person, and having listened to
his music for many years, I can say that he retains an enthusiasm for
jazz's potential that is remarkable. As he told me in our interview, "I
loved this music with a passion before I ever played a note."
Randy Weston's African Rhythms Trio performs at Yoshi's Oakland on Friday, July 13, 2012, and Saturday, July 14, 2012. For tickets and more information, visit yoshis.com.
[Article modified July 10, 2012 to include reference to Weston's biography, African Rhythms.]
Randy
Weston, who died on September 1 at 92, was one of my early favorites
among jazz pianists. Like his “biggest influence,” Thelonious Monk, as
well as Herbie Nichols, Cecil Taylor, and Abdullah Ibrahim, Randy had a
powerful touch that reflected the influence of Duke Ellington.
(Ellington was sufficiently impressed with Weston's playing to produce
Randy's album Berkshire Blues, in 1965.) In Weston's case,
early influences also included pianists Count Basie, Art Tatum and Nat
"King" Cole, and the arpeggiated improvising style of Coleman Hawkins.
"I used to try to play the piano like Coleman Hawkins played the
saxophone," he wrote in African Rhythms, the autobiography he
wrote with Willard Jenkins and published with Duke University Press in
2010. These and other influences reflected a lineage that Randy traced
to Africa and devoted his career to exploring through State Department
tours of Africa and the Middle East in the 1960s, and during the
five-year period in which he lived in Morocco between 1968 and ’73. The
synthesis of African traditions and modern jazz that Weston achieved on
albums like Uhuru Afrika, Highlife, African Cookbook, and The Spirits of our Ancestors,
gave him a singular status among jazz artists of his generation. Here
he is with his ensemble African Rhythms playing "Blue Moses," a
Morrocan-influenced work he introduced in the early 1970s.
Weston’s 6'7" height and gracious manner lent him a princely aura, and
in the times I was in his company he was wonderfully personable and
warmly enthusiastic. Conversation seemed to come easy to Weston, who
began his autobiography by saying, "I come to be a storyteller; I'm not a
jazz musician, I'm really a storyteller through music." Randy was born
in Brooklyn, where his father, Frank Edward Weston, operated a
restaurant that doubled as an informal Bed-Stuy community center. His
father and mother, Vivian Moore Weston, were followers of the black
nationalist Marcus Garvey, and the elder Weston inculcated in his son a
sense of Africa as his musical birthplace and spiritual home. Randy
devoted much of his life to exploring and establishing connections with
the Motherland, and his early '60s albums, Uhura Afrika, on which he collaborated with poet Langston Hughes, and Highlife,
celebrated West Africa’s newly independent nations and the inspiration
Weston felt when he visited the Caban Bamboo Club in Lagos. “The music
was so inspiring that at one point I jumped up and got the spirit…The
music started getting more and more intense and the next thing I knew I
could feel myself leave the earth. This music was so powerful I was
literally levitating, or so I felt.”
Weston incited a powerful response among patrons at his concert in
Cairo, Egypt, during his 14-nation State Department tour in 1961. "The
concert we played there was just explosive," he recalled in African Rhythms.
"Perhaps the most powerful performance of the whole tour. We played
"African Cookbook" to end the concert...The vibes from the Egyptian
people were so strong in that theater that at a certain point when
[bandmember] Chief Bey took his drum solo...the audience got into it and
simply took the rhythm away from us with vigorous handclaps. They were
actually throwing our rhythms back at us, as if to tell us, 'We know
that rhythm, that's our rhythm."
I saw Randy in concert numerous times, and enjoyed a few memorable
meetings with him. In 2011, we were on a panel commemorating the 40th
anniversary of the W.E. B. DuBois Department of Afro-American Studies at
the University of Massachusetts. There Randy acknowledged the leading
role that his lifelong friend Max Roach had made in establishing the
African American/Jazz Studies major at UMass in the 1970s. Max’s is the
first name to appear in Randy’s autobiography, where on page one he
wrote, “I hung out as an inexperienced, green piano player with the
grandmaster drummer Max Roach, one of my Brooklyn homeboys.” He
mentioned meeting Dizzy Gillespie, Leo Parker, George Russell, and Miles
Davis at Max’s Brooklyn home and recalled, “One time I was over at
Max’s house and Charlie Parker walked in. I had started writing my own
tunes by this time and Max immediately put me on the spot. He said,
‘Randy, play some of your music for Bird.’ I was in total shock…The idea
of playing something for Bird put me in total shock. This man was
already a legend. But after I finished playing, Bird said, ‘Yeah, yeah,
Randy, that was nice.” In 2008, Randy played his moving composition, “A
Prayer for All of Us,” at Max’s funeral at the Riverside Church in New
York. He and Max are seen here at the 1999 San Sebastian Jazz Festival
in Spain playing Thelonious Monk’s, “Well, You Needn’t.”
In African Rhythms, Randy described Monk as “perhaps my
biggest influence…When I heard Monk play the piano [with Coleman Hawkins
in 1943], I didn’t get him at first, but he eventually opened the door
for me, showed me the direction for our music, where we maintain all the
traditions of African music and we create from there…When I heard him
the second time I felt Monk put the magic back into the music; music
became universal for me.” He said that Monk's composition "Misterioso,"
fairly reflected the sense of mystery that Thelonious helped restore to
modern jazz in the 1940s. Randy was at the Wadsworth Atheneum in
2010 to mark the Hartford Jazz Society’s 50th anniversary. In 1960,
he'd been the first artist ever booked by the society, and at a brunch
on the day after his Wadsworth concert, he talked about his career. A
small gathering of fans peppered him with questions, and when I asked
him about the quintet he led with Coleman Hawkins, Kenny Dorham, Wilbur
Little, and Roy Haynes at the Five Spot in 1959, he warmed to the memory
of the great saxophonist whom he called “my idol.” He was especially
enthusiastic about the piano introduction that Gene Rodgers had played
on Hawk’s classic recording of “Body and Soul.” It’s an often overlooked
element of Hawk’s masterpiece, but not to the then 13-year-old pianist.
In his autobiography, Weston said, “When he recorded his big hit
version of “Body and Soul,” in 1939, I ran out and bought three copies;
one to play around the house and I wrapped the other two up and hid them
for safekeeping.” Two prime examples of Hawk’s lineage, the Texas-born tenors Booker Ervin
and Billy Harper, were prominent voices of Weston’s music for more than
a half century. Ervin, a native of Denison, Texas, traveled to Africa
with Randy in the sixties and was a featured soloist on the albums Highlife, African Cookbook, and a special guest of Weston's at the 1966 Monterey Jazz Festival, which Verve released as the album, Monterey ’66. In African Rhythms,
Weston hailed Ervin as the equal of John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins and
said he was the only saxophonist who could adequately express the
emotion that Randy sought to convey about his mother on "Portrait of
Vivian." Billy Harper, who was born in Houston in 1943, began working with Weston in 1973, and appeared on the albums Tanjah, Carnival, Saga, and The Spirit of Our Ancestors. In 2013, they co-led a duo album for Sunnyside, The Roots of the Blues. Here they perform “Blues for Senegal” on WNYC’s Soundcheck. Place was evidently important to Randy, whether it was Bed-Stuy,
Morocco, Nigeria, or the Berkshires of Western Massachusetts. In 1951,
while battling the appeal of heroin, he escaped the drug-ravaged streets
of Brooklyn and moved to Lenox, where he lived intermittently for the
next decade, playing occassional gigs at Music Inn between stints as a
cook and dishwasher at area restaurants. It's also where Randy connected
with Marshall Stearns at the Lenox School of Jazz. The school convened
for three-week periods during the summers of 1957-'60, and was a
bellwether of the jazz education curriculum that began making inroads at
colleges and universities a decade later. With Stearns, who was an
early proponent among jazz historians of the music's deep roots in West
Africa, Weston began a more formal study of jazz history and soon became
Stearns's musical counterpart. "Marshall Stearns had put
together this pan-African concept and invited all these people to the
Music Inn to speak and perform," he wrote in African Rhythms.
"Eventually I wound up playing piano for Stearns's lectures. I was a
young guy who could play piano a little bit like Thelonious Monk.
Stearns's lectures would go from West Africa to the Caribbean to the
black church, up through...Ma Rainey...all the way up to modern
jazz...Marshall would do the speaking and I would demonstrate the
various styles he talked about on the piano." The experience fired
Weston's imagination and set him on the course he pursued for the next
60 years. "Those ten summers in the Berkshires were a real cleansing
experience for me, and I was able to further develop myself as a player
and finally gain the confidence to where I was able to reconcile myself
to making music my profession." He commemorated the period with
"Berkshire Blues," which he's seen here playing at the New England
Conservatory of Music. I'll
pay memorial tribute to Randy Weston in tonight's Jazz à la Mode, and
the three-hour program will be available through NEPR's On Demand stream
until Monday, September. Click here for the New York Times obituary, which links to additonal coverage that the Times provided of Weston's career.
Marc Myers writes daily on jazz legends and legendary jazz recordings
September 4, 2018
Randy Weston (1926-2018)
Randy
Weston, a jazz pianist and composer who was the first artist producer
Orrin Keepnews signed to his new Riverside label in 1954 and who became
an early and ardent champion of Pan-Africanism in jazz, died on
September 1. He was 92. [Photo of Randy Weston by Chester Higgins] Randy was perhaps best known for his composition Hi-Fly, which he introduced on his New Faces at Newport
album in 1958. The song's catchy melody and moody harmony helped the
song become a heavily recorded jazz standard. Randy said the song was
inspired by his 6-foot 8 frame and how the world appeared from his lofty
vantage point. Jon Hendricks wrote lyrics for the song in 1959. Influenced
by Thelonious Monk's fractured keyboard attack, Randy was a percussive
player who over the years became more comfortable with abstraction,
especially as he was drawn increasingly to Africa and the continent's
history, rhythms and music. When I interviewed Randy in 2011 for my book, Why Jazz Happened, we talked about his passion for Africa:
"My
big awakening to Africa came as a result of my mother and father. Our
entire neighborhood in Brooklyn was Pan-African. Many of the people who
were here never felt they had left Africa. I visited Africa for the
first time in 1961, when I traveled to Nigeria. I instantly felt
completely at home. I didn't speak the language, but the spirit of the
continent was in the sky. I felt in my heart that I had never left.
African-Americans have always been a freedom-loving people, and it goes
back to the music. The music is a spiritual force and a healing force. "My
father said to me, 'You have to go back to when Africa was great. You
never hear anything about the African empire.' He told me to look for
truth, which is what I've tried to do as a musician all my life. I
wanted to find out why I played the way I played, so I went to Africa
and discovered that I had never left the continent, spiritually. If I
had been born in Canada I would still want to return to my ancestral
home because my relatives were torn from there during slavery.
"For
me, Africa was about a spirit, like the music. Any people that has been
oppressed feels this. When you feel oppressed because of the way you
look, that's doubly upsetting. I consider myself an African born in
America, but I'm a human being first. When I play music, I see all the
colors of the rainbow."
JazzWax clips:Here's Randy Weston playing Hi-Fly live in 1959 with Kenny Dorham on trumpet and Coleman Hawkins on tenor saxophone...
Here's Lambert, Hendricks and Ross's rendition in 1961, with Jon Hendricks's lyrics...
And here's Randy Weston's African Sunrise, from 1992...
THE MUSIC OF RANDY WESTON: AN EXTENSIVE VIDEO OVERVIEW, A CROSS SECTION OF RECORDINGS, MUSICAL ANALYSIS AND COMMENTARY, PLUS VARIOUS INTERVIEWS WITH RANDY WESTON:
Randolph Edward "Randy" Weston (April 6, 1926 – September 1, 2018) was an American jazz pianist and composer whose creativity was inspired by his ancestral African connection.[1] Weston's piano style owed much to Duke Ellington and Thelonious Monk,[2] whom he cited in a 2018 video as among pianists he counted as influences, as well as Count Basie, Nat King Cole and Earl Hines.[3] Beginning in the 1950s, Weston worked often with trombonist and arranger Melba Liston.[4][5] Described as "America's African Musical Ambassador", he said:
"What I do I do because it's about teaching and informing everyone about
our most natural cultural phenomenon. It's really about Africa and her
music."[6]
Biography
Early life
Randolph Edward Weston was born on April 6, 1926[7] to Vivian (née Moore) and Frank Weston and was raised in Brooklyn, New York, where his father owned a restaurant.[8] His mother was from Virginia and his father was of Jamaican-Panamanian descent, a staunch Garveyite, who passed self-reliant values to his son.[9][10] Weston studied classical piano as a child and took dance lessons.[11] He graduated from Boys High School in Bedford-Stuyvesant,
where he had been sent by his father because of the school's reputation
for high standards. Weston took piano lessons from someone known as
Professor Atwell who, unlike his former piano teacher Mrs Lucy Chapman,
allowed him to play songs outside the classical music repertoire.[12][11] Drafted into the U.S. Army during World War II, Weston served three years from 1944, reaching the rank of staff sergeant, and was stationed for a year in Okinawa, Japan.[7][13]
On his return to Brooklyn he ran his father's restaurant, which was
frequented by many jazz musicians. Among Weston's piano heroes were Count Basie, Nat King Cole, Art Tatum, Duke Ellington, and his cousin Wynton Kelly, but it was Thelonious Monk
who made the biggest impact, as Weston described in a 2003 interview:
"When I first heard Monk, I heard Monk with Coleman Hawkins. When I
heard Monk play, his sound, his direction, I just fell in love with it. I
spent about three years just hanging out with Monk. I would pick him up
in the car and bring him to Brooklyn and he was a great master because,
for me, he put the magic back into the music."[14]
Early career: 1940s–50s
In the late 1940s Weston began performing with Bullmoose Jackson, Frank Culley and Eddie "Cleanhead" Vinson. In 1951, retreating from the atmosphere of drug use common on the New York jazz scene, Weston moved to Lenox, Massachusetts, in the Berkshires.[15] There at the Music Inn, a venue where jazz historian Marshall Stearns taught, Weston first learned about the African roots of jazz.[16] He would return in subsequent summers to perform at the Music Inn,[13] where he wrote his composition "Berkshire Blues", interacting with artists and intellectuals such as Geoffrey Holder, Babatunde Olatunji, Langston Hughes and Willis James,
about which experience Weston said: "I got a lot of my inspiration for
African music by being at Music Inn.... They were all explaining the
African-American experience in a global perspective, which was unusual
at the time."[17][18] Weston worked with Kenny Dorham in 1953 and in 1954 with Cecil Payne, before forming his own trio and quartet and releasing his debut recording as a leader in 1954, Cole Porter in a Modern Mood. He was voted New Star Pianist in Down Beat magazine's International Critics' Poll of 1955.[19] Several fine albums followed, with the best being Little Niles near the end of that decade, dedicated to his children Niles and Pamela, with all the tunes being written in 3/4 time.[20]Melba Liston,
as well as playing trombone on the record, provided excellent
arrangements for a sextet playing several of Weston's best compositions:
the title track, "Earth Birth", "Babe's Blues", "Pam's Waltz", and
others.
1960s–70s
In the 1960s, Weston's music prominently incorporated African elements, as shown on the large-scale suite Uhuru Afrika (1960, with the participation of poet Langston Hughes) and Highlife (full title: Music from the New African Nations featuring the Highlife),
the latter recorded in 1963, two years after Weston traveled for the
first time to Africa, as part of a U.S. cultural exchange programme to Lagos, Nigeria[21] (the contingent also including Langston Hughes, musicians Lionel Hampton and Ahmed Abdul-Malik, and singers Nina Simone and Brock Peters).[22] On both these albums he teamed up with the arranger Melba Liston. Uhuru Afrika, or Freedom Africa, is considered a historic landmark album that celebrates several new African countries obtaining their Independence.[23]
In addition, during these years his band often featured the tenor saxophonist Booker Ervin. Weston covered the Nigerian Bobby Benson's piece "Niger Mambo", which included Caribbean and jazz elements within a Highlife style, and has recorded this number many times throughout his career.[24]
In 1967 Weston traveled throughout Africa with a U.S. cultural delegation. The last stop of the tour was Morocco, where he decided to settle, running his African Rhythms Club in Tangier[25] for five years, from 1967 to 1972. He said in a 2015 interview: "We had everything in there from Chicago blues singers to singers from the Congo.... The whole idea was to trace African people wherever we are and what we do with music."[26] In 1972 he produced Blue Moses for the CTI Records,
a best-selling record on which he plays electric keyboard. As he
explained in a July 2018 interview, "We were still living in Tangier, so
my son and I came from Tangier to do the recording, but when I got
there, Creed Taylor said his formula is electric piano. I was not happy
with that, but it was my only hit record. People loved it."[27] In the summer of 1975, he played at the Festival of Tabarka in Tunisia, North Africa (later known as the Tabarka Jazz Festival), accompanied by his son Azzedin Weston on percussion, with other notable acts including Dizzy Gillespie.
Later career
Randy Weston February 19, 1984
For a long stretch Weston recorded infrequently on smaller record labels. He also made a two-CD recording The Spirits of Our Ancestors (recorded 1991, released 1992), which featured arrangements by his long-time collaborator Melba Liston.
The album contained new, expanded versions of many of his well-known
pieces and featured an ensemble including some African musicians, with
guests such as Dizzy Gillespie and Pharoah Sanders also contributing. The music director was saxophonist Talib Kibwe (also known as T. K. Blue), who subsequently continued in that role.[28]The Spirits of Our Ancestors has been described as "one of the most imaginative explorations of 'world jazz' ever recorded."[19] Weston produced a series of albums in a variety of formats: solo, trio, mid-sized groups, and collaborations with the Gnawa musicians of Morocco. His most popular compositions include "Hi-Fly", which he said was inspired by his experience of being 6' 8" and looking down at the ground, "Little Niles",
named for his son (who was later known as Azzedin), "African Sunrise",
"Blue Moses", "The Healers", and "Berkshire Blues". Weston's
compositions have frequently been recorded by other prominent musicians,
including Abdullah Ibrahim,[29]Houston Person,[30]Booker Ervin, and others.[31] A five-night celebration of Weston's music took place at the Montreal Jazz Festival in 1995, featuring gnawa musicians and a duet with saxophonist David Murray.[32] In 2002 Weston performed with bassist James Lewis for the inauguration of the Bibliotheca Alexandrina in Alexandria, Egypt. During the same year he performed with Gnawa musicians at Canterbury Cathedral at the invitation of the Archbishop of Canterbury.[33][34] Weston also played at the Kamigamo Shrine in Japan in 2005.
On June 21, 2009, he participated in a memorial at the Jazz Gallery in New York for Ghanaian drummer Kofi Ghanaba (formerly known as Guy Warren),[35] whose composition "Love, the Mystery of..." Weston used as his theme for some 40 years.[36] In 2013, Sunnyside released Weston's album The Roots of the Blues, a duo session with tenor saxophonist Billy Harper. On November 17, 2014, as part of the London Jazz Festival, Weston played a duo concert with Harper at the Queen Elizabeth Hall.
Kevin Le Gendre in his review said the two musicians reached "the kind
of advanced conversational intimacy only master players achieve."[37] In 2015 Weston was artist-in-residence at The New School in New York, participating in a lecture series, performing, and mentoring students.
Weston celebrated his 90th birthday in 2016[38] with a concert at Carnegie Hall,[39] among other activities,[40][41][42][43][44][45] and continued thereafter to tour and speak internationally. He performed at the Gnawa Festival in Morocco in April 2016,[46] took part in the Spoleto Festival in Charleston, SC, on June 2,[47][48][49][50] and was among the opening acts at the 50th Montreux Jazz Festival.[51] In July 2016 he was a keynote speaker at the 32nd World Conference of the International Society for Music Education in Glasgow.[52] An African Nubian Suite (2017) is a recording of a concert at the Institute of African American Affairs of New York University on April 8, 2012, Easter Sunday, with Cecil Bridgewater, Robert Trowers, Howard Johnson, T. K. Blue, Billy Harper, Alex Blake, Lewis Nash, Candido, Ayodele Maakheru, Lhoussine Bouhamidy, Saliou Souso, Martin Kwaku Obeng, Min Xiao-Fen, Tanpani Demda Cissoko, Neil Clarke and Ayanda Clarke, and the poet Jayne Cortez.[53][54] Describing it as an "epic work", the Black Grooves reviewer wrote that The African Nubian Suite
"traces the history of the human race through music, with a narration
by inspirational speaker Wayne B. Chandler, and introductions and
stories by Weston in his role as griot.... Stressing the unity of
humankind, Weston incorporates music that 'stretches across
millennia'—from the Nubian region along the Nile Delta, to the holy city of Touba in Senegal, to China's Shang dynasty,
as well as African folk music and African American blues.... In these
troubling times when our nation is divided by politics, race and
religion, Weston uses The African Nubian Suite as a vehicle to remind us of our common heritage: 'We all come from the same place – we all come from Africa.'"[55] Weston's last release, the double-CD set Sound (2018), was
a recording of a solo piano concert that took place at the Hotel
Montreux Palace, Switzerland, on July 17 and 18, 2001.[56]
Randy Weston died at his home in Brooklyn on the morning of September 1, 2018.[57]
Personal life
Weston's
first marriage, to Mildred Mosley, ended in divorce. His son Azzedin
having predeceased him, Weston was survived by his wife Fatoumata
Mbengue-Weston, whom he met in 1994;[58] three daughters, Cheryl, Pamela and Kim; seven grandchildren; six great-grandchildren; and one great-great-grandchild.[7]
Autobiography
In October 2010, Duke University Press published African Rhythms: The Autobiography of Randy Weston,
"composed by Randy Weston, arranged by Willard Jenkins". It was hailed
as "an important addition to the jazz historiography and a long
anticipated read for fans of this giant of African American music, aka
jazz."[13]
Reviewer Larry Reni Thomas wrote: "Randy Weston’s long-anticipated,
much-talked-about, consciousness-raising, African-centered
autobiography, African Rhythms, is a serious breath of fresh air
and is a much-needed antidote in this world of mediocre musicians, and
men. He takes the reader on a wonderful, exciting journey from America
to Africa and back with the ease of a person who loved every minute of
it. The book is hard to put down and is an engaging, pleasing literary
work that is worthy of being required reading in any history or
literature school course."[59]
Archives
In
2015–16, Weston's archives were acquired by the Jazz Research Initiative
in collaboration with the Hutchins Center, Loeb Music Library, the Harvard College Library, and the Dean of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences.[60]
The Randy Weston Collection comprises hundreds of manuscripts, scores,
videos, films, photographs, and more than 1,000 tape recordings, and
among its highlights are correspondence with Langston Hughes and Alvin Ailey; photographs with Dizzy Gillespie, Pharoah Sanders, Muhammad Ali, and Cornel West; and records of Weston's African Rhythms Club in Tangier, Morocco, from 1967 to 1972.[60]
2011: Honored by King Mohammed VI of Morocco
for "lifelong engagement with Morocco and deep commitment to bringing
Morocco's Gnaoua music tradition to the attention of the Western world"[64]
Kofi Natambu, editor of and contributor to Sound Projections, is a writer, poet, cultural critic, and political journalist whose poetry, essays, criticism, reviews, and journalism have appeared in many literary magazines, journals, newspapers, and anthologies. He has written extensively about music as a critic and historian for many publications, including the Black Scholar, Downbeat, Solid Ground: A New World Journal, Detroit Metro Times, KONCH, the Panopticon Review,Black Renaissance Noire, the Village Voice, the City Sun (NYC), the Poetry Project Newsletter (NYC), and the African American Review. He is the author of a biography Malcolm X: His Life & Work (Alpha Books) and two books of poetry: The Melody Never Stops (Past Tents Press) and Intervals (Post Aesthetic Press). He was the founder and editor of Solid Ground: A New World Journal, a national quarterly magazine of the arts, culture, and politics and the editor of a literary anthology Nostalgia for the Present (Post Aesthetic Press). Natambu has read his work throughout the country and given many lectures and workshops at academic and arts institutions. He has taught American literature, literary theory and criticism, cultural history and criticism, film studies, political science, creative writing, philosophy, critical theory, and music history and criticism (Jazz, Blues, R&B, Hip Hop) at many universities and colleges. He was also a curator in the Education Department of Detroit’s Museum of African American History. Born in Detroit, Michigan, Natambu currently lives in Berkeley, California with his wife Chuleenan.
Randy Weston 
