There And Back Again

A settlement along the Eastern Cape’s Wild Coast.

Kef Kek Break

I left the city for a breath of fresh air in South Africa’s Eastern Cape. I’m addicted to hiking on coastlines. I traveled to Coffee Bay on the Wild Coast via Nelson Mandela’s hometown, Mthatha. Coffee Bay is just one of many non-urban areas in South Africa. Still, my time there left me with a more realistic picture of how people live in South Africa, and how music lives with them.

Music is a daily dose. It’s something people share–an activity, a past time. There is no art to it. Traditional South African languages didn’t even have a word for art until European settlers arrived. So there is no concert hall or formalities to music. You play, they dance, or vice versa. It has changed with greater influx of foreigners to the Eastern Cape. With it comes a market for musical performance. A phenomenal young local percussionist (19 I was told) rocked a backpacker spot in Coffee Bay. This young man will soon face a dilemma: to stay put or seek more in a city.

Amandla! A march on Parliament in Cape Town.

The city is cooking. Music is as ingrained in social and daily life as it is in the countryside, only in different mediums. I encountered a march on Parliament in Cape Town. Different factions of the mob sang, some even with harmony, while dancing up Plein Street. I’ve marched in Seattle before. This would not happen there, or perhaps anywhere I’ve traveled to so far. It warmed me to experience music outside venue walls. But I couldn’t help to notice an irony in this protesting. The African National Congress (ANC) supporters proclaim their grievances to the government. The Western Cape is controlled by the Democratic Alliance (DA), but in my understanding, the issues at hand are national. The national ruling party is the ANC. Good ol’ politics.

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From the Eastern Cape I continued to Johannesburg, or Jo Burg, or Jozi. The financial and (I’d say) cultural capital of South Africa has a fast tempo, and more energy than a chilled-out Cape Town. Historically, Jo Burg is where jazz really began blossoming in South Africa. Time passed. Few clubs and venues remain. But musicians carry on. Jo Burg’s scene reminds me of Bombay’s. I caught two gigs during my stay, the second of which I sat in with a great local trumpeter Marcus Wyatt. Check out his Language 12 project:

Marcus’ gig later transformed into a high-energy jam. The crowd was bubbling. The local musicians were boiling… Mthunzi Mvubu on sax; Nduduzo Makhathini on keys and Ayanda Sikade on drums—both of these cats are releasing fresh albums very soon. And of course many more… so many more. I had little time to see much (even eat). It was all music all the time—lekker. I left Jo Burg only wishing I had more time. Shit, I wish that for every place I’ve been to. I arrived back in Cape Town for the beginning of the SAJE Conference.

Jazz.Edu

The meeting room at a past SAJE Conference.

The South African Association of Jazz Education (SAJE) hosted their 11^th International Conference this week: Jazz as a metaphor for change, collaboration and innovation. Musicians and scholars from the UK, Brazil, Italy, USA, Estonia, and of course, South Africa, congregated at the University of Cape Town (UCT) College of Music. Busy myself—with gigs, jams, and preparations for Brazil—I was only able to catch a few presentations. Ups to Diane and Mike Rossi for organizing and running the whole thing!

A highlight for me was two documentaries. The first, “Dave Brubeck: In His Own Sweet Way” was produced by Clint Eastwood and presented by Brubeck’s three sons: Darius, Dan and Chris. A Dave Brubeck documentary is long overdue, but then again, Brubeck is still kicking at 91. The film is a bit dry. Clint Eastwood got a bit too much face time as well. But, Brubeck’s story is an incredible one. (Darius joked that the only reason a biopic wasn’t made is because Dave did none of the bad stuff… no drug addiction, no conflicts, no movie). It isn’t difficult to understand why his story inspires me personally. Dave Brubeck’s global tour in 1958 heavily influenced his infamous album Time Out.

Dave and Clint at the bench.

After an insightful lecture on the great trumpeter Kenny Wheeler, UK scholar Jonathan Eato presented the second documentary, “Legacy,” an edited (and by edited, I mean very artistic, improvisational editing at work here by Aryan Kaganof) interview with three South African jazz legends—Tete Mbambisa (piano), Louis Moholo (drums), and Zim Ngqawana (sax). Simply put, the film is enlightening. I only wish I had a clip to share. One quote I do remember well, imparted by the late Zim Ngqawana. Paraphrased (waiting for a transcription): “I’m not so interested in my traditions or traditional music. I’m interested in the conscience.” Zim is truly a South African musician. His words cut deep. Conscience is the core of music, not the instruments, the style, the rhythm, the feel, the tradition… it’s the conscience. All else is secondary. Dig on Zim!

I played my own part in the SAJE Conference, performing with Mac McKenzie’s Goema Ensemble to cap a presentation on the history and development of goema, or “the sound of the city” (of Cape Town). I’ve written on goema already. For a refresher, read my post “The Goema Heartbeat.” US scholar John Edwin Mason gave a historical outlook as well as his vivid photography from a previous Cape Town Carnival. Check his blog! Paul Sedres, French musician and the director of SAJE, then spoke with Mac about the development of goema by tracing Mac’s own musical career.

The Cape Town Carnival. Photo by John Edwin Mason.

The 11^th SAJE Conference is also a great and timely lead up to the Cape Town International Jazz Festival, which takes place this weekend. I can’t wait to share what I hear with you all.

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I grabbed a drink at Tagore’s on my way home. A couple muso friends are there. We’re having what Afrikaaners call a jol when Tony Cedras emerges from the back of the small venue. Tony is a local Cape Town music legend, a pianist and trumpeter. He’s been living in NYC. Tonight, he’s in Cape Town, jamming in the backyard of Tagore’s with another great local cat Hilton Schilder. As Tony exits, a hilarious breakout of song ensues. We all start rambunctiously singing his hit song “Ngena,” a Cape Town jazz standard (the recording of which featured a young Chris Botti). I liken this to singing “Message in a Bottle” if you ever encountered Sting. Good times at Tagore’s.

–RE

Flavors of the Cape

The Kwela Mafia running the streets.

Kwela

Kwela is Zulu for “get up.” It’s happy music. It’s something I’ve noticed in Cape Town: the music is happy. Iconic Cape Town jazz compositions like Winston Mankunku’s Yakha’inkomo (“The Crying Bull”) are, despite sad and atrocious inspirations, musically joyous. Perhaps it’s in spite of. The music heals. Who wants to hear a sad song after a sad day in the life. It’s like the ‘blues mentality’—you might be down, but you can always get up. Kwela!

Kwela began as street music featuring the penny whistle, which is inexpensive, versatile, and conveniently fits in your underpants as you travel around. On a any given day, one can hear groups like the Kwela Mafia perform in the city center.

Check out their jams on myspace:
http://www.myspace.com/thekwelamafia

Clinton Heneke (playing percussion with the Kwela Mafia in the picture above) learned kwela and other local music forms by playing with street musicians. He now lives in Berlin. Yet, whenever he visits his hometown, he heads right to the streets to play. Clinton promotes local veteran street musicians with CAMA’s “Street Music Project.” The Kwela Mafia are among those featured. In Clinton’s own words:

“Through the Street Music Project, CAMA has set about uncovering a special group of ‘unsung heroes’ for whom music making is an essential part of life – music makers who are either hidden, unheard-of or simply unacknowledged. They are old and young, play on the streets, or for their township communities. Some of them do not perform at all, but keep their music a treasured secret. Their talent and musical ability could well stand beside better known names in South African music.”

 The penny whistle in action.

Mbaqanga

The Kwela Mafia has evolved. The traditional penny whistle has been replaced with a saxophone. Sadly, very few penny whistlers remain. Western instruments became popular and joined kwela, so someone began calling this new sound mbaqanga. Mbaqanga follows a simple, melodic I-IV-V harmonic progression (fundamentally, the blues) first heard in yet another style called marabi. The repetitious harmonic sequence of marabi is immediately recognized by most anybody in Cape Town. More to come on mbaqanga in the future.

The Xhosa Sound

Dizu’s promo pic.

Dizu Plaatjies performed with his 30-piece Ibuyambo Ensemble. Ibuyambo means a renaissance, or rebirth, which is literally what Dizu is doing for traditional Xhosa music. Really, the ensemble champions a multiplicity of music traditions of the greater South African region. Why be exclusive? I must say, Ibuyambo is the most astonishing show I’ve seen in Cape Town. I’m unable to upload my own video clip right now (which features some wild dancing). Below is a more mellow selection already on Youtube.

 

Goema… revisited

Last week, I had the great pleasure of performing at the Mahogany Room with Goema maestro Mac McKenzie, whose life work has been reinventing Goema through rock, jazz and Western classical music. I connected with Mac via his Cape Town Composer’s Workshop. Unfortunately, with limited rehearsal time, we weren’t able to get together two fresh pieces of my own, written in India… another time, perhaps. But the gigs were hip. There’s nothing like blowing over a Goema groove. And Mac has a lot to say with his pencil. Below is a clip from one of our shows. The energy and contribution of the audience fuels the music. I think this captures the spirit of goema.

 

A segment of NamaQua with Mac’s goema group.

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Cape Town Natural, a local music/arts blogs, covers the local music being played yesterday, today and every day after. Gregory Franz, the blogger, tirelessly covers the Cape’s jazz scene. I see him at almost every late night Monday jam at Swingers with his camera. Don’t remind him about his day job. His photos, thoughts and local artistic events are presented on Cape Town Natural. I smiled when Gregory mentioned he knew a past Watson Fellow who visited the Cape–Aisha Fukushima, who is making (bigger and bigger) waves through Raptivism (Rap Activism).

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Music is a mirror of a culture or people. Through it, we understand each other better. Look into your own musical mirror. You might see yourself more clearly too…

Dancing About Architecture

Rolf Erik Nystrom is “On The Edge of Wrong”

The Mahogany Room hosted the 7^th annual On The Edge of Wrong festival in Cape Town this past weekend. On The Edge of Wrong bridges different musical approaches of Norwegians and South Africans. As the name suggests, this festival pushes boundaries—personal, collective, improvisational, and the comfort zones of audiences and musicians alike. Morten Kristiansen, who organizes the festival both in Cape Town and Oslo, and a Norwegian jazz artist himself, studied at Cape Town’s College of Music. He created the festival to keep his ties with another country he loves, and I suppose to promote great music too. My immediate question, a musician’s first question, where do find the funding? Unsurprisingly, it’s mostly the Norwegian government (and a few other sponsors). After I asked this, Morten laughed and admitted, “I’ve never made a dime off this, and probably never will.” Big ups!

In an interview, Morten gave a nice analogy of his festival’s name: On The Edge Of Wrong is like a perfect conversation; one where you speak openly, honestly, without censorship of feelings and ideas, that directly connects two different bodies, that is less about content and more about the sheer engagement. And then time flies.

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 This year’s promo.

Rolf Erik Nystrom, a Norwegian saxophonist pictured in the beginning of this post, was featured at this year’s installment of hte festival. As you’ll hear for yourself, he straddles the edge of wrong. Nystrom collaborates with many musicians all over Africa, and now has a few more friends in Cape Town: Dizu Plaatjies and Errol Dyers.

 

Nystrom performs a solo piece.

 

Nystrom performs a duet with Dizu Plaatjies, a maestro of Xhosa traditional music and instruments.

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In August 2011 I took a train from Sweden to Norway to catch the Oslo Jazz Festival and get a taste for a country known well for its free approach to jazz and music in general. It’s a freer expression of the more straight ahead Nordic Jazz Dialects I soaked up in Stockholm. You can read my thoughts on it here. South African tabla/percussionist Ronan Skillen, while performing at On The Edge of Wrong, candidly admitted how intimidating is is to play free music for so many Norwegians, who can hear this music on the radio in their own country.

The Norwegians I met in Cape Town were not impressed when I told them I attended the Oslo Jazz Festival. It’s too commercial by Norwegian standards. Well, if the Brian Blade Fellowship is commercial, then commercial jazz must be pretty hip in Norway.

The Norwegian-South African connection immediately intrigues me. I’m not an ethnomusicologist. I’m not focusing on any one region or type of music. I’m not even concerned with just jazz anymore. The end all is a meaningful musical dialogue between vastly different countries and traditions—a perfect conversation.

This year, On The Edge of Wrong featured a Norwegian journalist posing questions to local and Norwegian artists and musicians. One of the interviewees was the editor of Chimurenga, a “pan-African publication of writing, arts and politics.” The publication supports the Pan-African Space Station, which archives local live shows as Youtube videos. The video below is of Lwanda Gogwana’s quartet live at Tagore’s, another venue that pushes quality jazz. I was fortunate enough to sit in that night… so the clip features two trumpet players.

 

 

The editor of Chimurenga was asked if he had qualms writing about jazz in his publication, specifically considering a Thelonious Monk quote: “Talking about jazz is like dancing about architecture.” The notion does sound silly. Music needs no language. It’s deeper, a supremely direct expression. It makes us dance, smile, laugh, and cry without a word.

But I laughed when I heard this Monk quote. People, and myself included, always have to talk or write about it, whatever it is. So I laughed at myself. For seven months now I’ve been writing about music in my off time. I laughed much later when I concluded that, if you thought like Monk did, your only response would be, Well… what’s wrong with dancing about architecture? Nothing. It’s just not normal. But somehow writing about music is at least not abnormal.

I look back at the (commercial) Brian Blade Fellowship concert at the Oslo Jazz Festival, where I sit at a table with two jazz critics. They work for All About Jazz. I must laugh for these guys too. This is their life. I sat by and listened as they one-upped each other for fifteen minutes, retelling and embellishing their favorite jazz concerts, arguing about elite guitarists today, or how they foresaw Esperanza Spalding becoming the next big thing (a modern diva). I bet these critics would laugh with me. They, like most jazz heads, worship Monk. We all do because Monk was, at least in his day, on the edge of wrong. Which somehow means, retrospectively today, that Monk was the most right.

Well, my feet are tired. I’ve been dancing too long now about architecture. But I have some more music to share. Don’t hesitate to write to me about it.

 

Reza Khota Trio at Ibuyambo.

 

Reza Khota (guitar), Shane Cooper (bass), Jonno Sweetman (drums) perform at Ibuyambo

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Happy Feet at Boulder’s Beach