Randy Weston

 

Since I was on vacation last week and didn't have to get up early, I decided to treat myself to some live music at one of NYC's pricier nightclubs. Like Glen Gould, I generally prefer recordings to live performances since there are fewer distractions. Now if I could only play the piano like he did...

 

I have been listening to Randy Weston's African influenced jazz for the better part of 40 years but I have never heard him perform in person. A Village Voice publicity blurb said:

 

"His African Rhythms Quintet is a lean, undulating, aggressive, lyrical joy of a band. Although Weston's '50s songs are no longer covered as widely as they used to be--and will be again--they have proven durable in their humor, rhythm, and intricate melodic coils, and Weston finds ways to refurbish them that confirms the Moroccan-Brooklyn connection that defines his music."

 

As Randy Weston strode into the Iridium five minutes before the set, he made a vivid impression at 6'6" and dressed in a flowing orange African dashiki. At the age of 73, he seems to be in great shape physically and might even be taken for a former professional athlete. He told a Boston Globe reporter last year, "I liked to shoot baskets but I didn't like to run. And musicians were so important in the black community when I was young. We copied how they dressed. If you were a musician in the black community, you didn't go out to buy cigarettes unless you were immaculate."

 

His physical power also seems to affect the way he plays the piano, his huge hands making an almost percussive use of the keyboards as was the case of his major influence, Thelonious Monk. What I heard, however, was not only the inflections of Monk but of the pianist who influenced both of them and who doesn't get near as much credit as an innovator as he deserves, namely Duke Ellington. When you listen to Ellington in small group settings, where his piano solos are given freer rein than in big band arrangements, you will hear the same elements that you find in Monk, Weston and other great "two hand" pianists. These include a rolling bass line, liberal use of dissonances and tone clusters punctuated by dramatic pauses. You can hear Ellington at his best in the recording "Money Jungle", where he is joined by bassist Charlie Mingus and drummer Max Roach.

 

With his latest band, Weston blends his Monk-like piano style with a very unusual rhythm section. Instead of using a conventional drum set, he relies on a percussionist named Neil Clarke who performs on conga and hand cymbals. So instead of the typical 4/4 beat that typifies modern jazz performance, you get a polyrhythmic foundation that complements the African-influenced harmonies of Weston's compositions. The bassist Alex Blake is also extremely unconventional, using a combination of strumming, slapping and plucking often accompanied with a kind of scat singing reminiscent of Slam Stewart from an earlier generation. The horn player (flute, alto and soprano sax) is Talib Kibwe, who reminds me a lot of Arthur Blythe and of Yusef Lateef, also from an earlier generation.

 

It is African influences that makes Weston's music special. Unlike American jazz standards, Weston's tunes dispense with the typical architecture of theme-variation-resolution. When you hear most classic jazz compositions, you are geared to expect a certain tripartite form that is almost as much of a convention as a 4-movement symphony. For example, in something like the Miles Davis performances of "My Funny Valentine", you are never that far away from the underlying song structure. If you didn't hear a restatement of the tune at the end of the performance, you'd feel cheated.

 

In a Weston composition, you are much less aware of a beginning, middle or end. The performance is much more like African popular or folk music which does not follow a linear path. Instead, after a short statement of the theme, you are treated to much more interplay than is normal in a standard jazz performance. It is also much more difficult to sense when the "climax" of a piece is nearing. One can imagine Weston being influenced by the performances of dervishes in Morocco where he lived for many years or by other forms of African music that are ritualistic, nonlinear and ecstatic in nature.

 

Weston moved to Morocco in 1967, where he opened a nightclub and studied with the master musicians of the Gnawa, a sub-Saharan group of people first brought to Morocco as slaves. By combining the music of tropical Africa and desert Africa, they created a unique sound that Weston finally documented on his 1994 album, "The Splendid Master Gnawa Musicians of Morocco" (Verve/Antilles). His set at the Iridium included a piece influenced by the Gnawa that was absolutely riveting. It reminded me a bit of John Coltrane's classic "Africa Brass", but much tighter and much more authentic.

 

Like many African-Americans in New York City and other cosmopolitan centers, Weston became a Pan-Africanist prior to the black nationalist awakening of the 1960s. He told the Boston Globe, "My father, Frank Edward Weston, is from very proud people, and he wanted to instill that pride in me. He loved Africa, and told me as a little boy that I had to know my ancestral home. He insisted on two things - that I study African history from before the continent was invaded, and learn to play the piano. Mom gave me the church and the blues. It was a wonderful foundation."

 

Weston collaborated for many years with Melba Liston, a composer and trombone player who died last year. Liston was one of the great female instrumentalists of the 20th century. Shortly before her death, Weston described their first encounter: "I was listening to Dizzy's band at Birdland and saw this beautiful woman playing the trombone. It was Melba Liston, featured on her own arrangement of 'My Reverie.' When I introduced myself and we shook hands, it was like electricity. We first worked together in 1958, when she arranged seven of my children's waltzes for the album 'Little Niles,' and we're still working together."

 

Liston participated in "Uhuru Afrika," Weston's classic 1960 recording that celebrated the continent's political liberation. "People thought we were crazy radicals when we did that album but look at the popularity of African and Asian music now." He also collaborated with Langston Hughes who contributed a poem to 'Uhuru Afrika,' and was on Weston's first trip to Africa the following year. Langston's will specified that Weston play at his funeral, and that the last piece had to be Duke Ellington's "Do Nothin' Till You Hear From Me."

 

Weston's 1961 trip to Nigeria reinforced the Pan-Africanism that his father instilled in him. "I knew I was back home in the land of my ancestors. I saw the same faces as in Harlem and Brooklyn, and the music had the same spiritual character. On that first trip we had traditional African dancers on the same stage with dancers from the Savoy Ballroom, and we could see that we hadn't changed that much. Our music was African music."

 

If you get a chance to hear Randy Weston in person, don't miss it. Also highly recommended is his 1995 recording "Earth Birth" (Verve/Gitanes), with arrangements by Melba Liston. Weston is joined by bassist Christian McBride and the great drummer Billy Higgins on this recording, with a string orchestra conducted by Paul West. It includes classic Weston tunes, such as "Little Niles" and "Hi-Fly".