tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73132102880347063662024-03-13T13:24:15.007-07:00Shabaka bloglistenshabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.comBlogger320125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-68601920334761704792015-09-16T12:36:00.000-07:002015-09-16T12:36:11.037-07:00Essay on the work of Daniela Yohannes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.natbrut.com/visual-art-daniela-yohannes-painter-of-the-invisible.html">http://www.natbrut.com/visual-art-daniela-yohannes-painter-of-the-invisible.html</a></div>
shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-71238917535998034232015-07-17T03:35:00.002-07:002015-07-17T03:35:14.168-07:00Kendrick Lamar - Alright<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Z-48u_uWMHY" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-21789067330392705072015-07-17T03:33:00.002-07:002015-07-17T03:33:59.191-07:00Kamasi Washington performing "Re Run Home" Live on KCRW<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XDXNzucphEw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-3043440379632878022015-07-17T03:30:00.002-07:002015-07-17T03:30:32.583-07:00Oddisee - CounterClockwise<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/w8-tQoLDXyU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-84919471439661922172015-07-17T03:29:00.003-07:002015-07-17T03:29:38.473-07:00JJ DOOM - "BOOKHEAD"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /></div>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jTCI_bqMi_w" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-13241127678873604812015-03-11T04:20:00.001-07:002015-03-11T04:20:25.464-07:00There are songs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="p1">
There are songs within sounds that echo the breath of eternity.</div>
<div class="p1">
i sing,</div>
<div class="p1">
the universe incarnate from these lips</div>
<div class="p1">
which twist in forming syllables,</div>
<div class="p1">
moulding decibels,</div>
<div class="p1">
fragmenting time's continuum,</div>
<div class="p1">
lost in a universe of verse.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Inner space cannot hear what is not felt</div>
<div class="p1">
since for rhymes to sound, molecules must resound</div>
<div class="p1">
shattering the serenity of being in tune</div>
<div class="p1">
to silence,</div>
<div class="p1">
still time.</div>
<div class="p1">
While time binds minds to the tangible</div>
<div class="p1">
rhyme frees minds from time.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
As placed lips contour the origin of sounds</div>
<div class="p1">
sculpted hearts predate the origin of thoughts.</div>
<div class="p1">
Must i then curve my heart strings </div>
<div class="p1">
to intellectual things</div>
<div class="p1">
before i learn to think with an action less complex?</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
I guess its true then.</div>
<div class="p1">
My love is a notion,</div>
<div class="p1">
drowned by a wave of perception.</div>
<div class="p1">
thoughts thrown to anchor my heart </div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
only add to its heaviness.</div>
</div>
shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-78427474940721982392015-03-11T04:18:00.002-07:002015-03-11T04:18:58.002-07:00one night....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="p1">
i met her in a bar</div>
<div class="p1">
eyes open, tights torn,</div>
<div class="p1">
skirt short, soul worn</div>
<div class="p1">
parading this assortment</div>
<div class="p1">
for one to see through this guise.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
she wanted to be seen</div>
<div class="p1">
as she was before there was flesh</div>
<div class="p1">
before there were bones</div>
<div class="p1">
scattered en route to her thoughts</div>
<div class="p1">
leading men to warped glimpses</div>
<div class="p1">
of her essence</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
she wanted to be known</div>
<div class="p1">
as it was when we existed as smoke signals</div>
<div class="p1">
seen as spiralling clouds</div>
<div class="p1">
charting our route to the sky</div>
<div class="p1">
mapping our distance from the earth's core.</div>
<div class="p1">
from our joint heart.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
she wanted to be undressed</div>
<div class="p1">
and unknown to the eyes of now.</div>
<div class="p1">
unknown and felt</div>
<div class="p1">
in distances relative</div>
<div class="p1">
to a family tree she once knew,</div>
<div class="p1">
weaving inbred branches,</div>
<div class="p1">
leaves searching for the sun</div>
<div class="p1">
wrapping lifetimes with its roots.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
'oh brother where art thou?</div>
<div class="p1">
i've stumbled only through lovers and wanderers</div>
<div class="p1">
looking for a body</div>
<div class="p1">
closer to my core'</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
she searched for love-like properties</div>
<div class="p1">
in a compound element.</div>
<div class="p1">
the formula her past handing her so jading her heart</div>
<div class="p1">
it acquired the colour purple.</div>
<div class="p1">
in vain she sampled masculine frames,</div>
<div class="p1">
balanced frames make perfect shades,</div>
<div class="p1">
tinting the windows of her soul.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
i met her</div>
<div class="p1">
soul in a bar,</div>
<div class="p1">
stripped to its essence,</div>
<div class="p1">
tied around her waist</div>
<div class="p1">
in tightly wound knots</div>
<div class="p1">
resembling bow-ties</div>
<div class="p1">
resembling tied bows</div>
<div class="p1">
aimed at hearts,</div>
<div class="p1">
her body a sometimes dart.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
i met her body in a bar</div>
<div class="p1">
saw the axis of her pain</div>
<div class="p1">
around which revolved her heart,</div>
<div class="p1">
in slow circular motion.</div>
<div class="p1">
slow enough to regard its trobbing,</div>
<div class="p1">
giving clues to the speed</div>
<div class="p1">
of her swaying body,</div>
<div class="p1">
which, if held in the right time</div>
<div class="p1">
could led to me touching her soul.</div>
<div class="p1">
wrapped tightly, dirty and torn,</div>
<div class="p1">
by fingers trying to unravel her.</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
i washed my hands of my past</div>
<div class="p1">
i forged my family tree</div>
<div class="p1">
i stole her heart</div>
<div class="p1">
tied it with my roots</div>
<div class="p1">
covered it with my branches</div>
<div class="p1">
i unclipped her bra-strap</div>
<div class="p1">
untied her soul,</div>
<div class="p1">
and as it fell</div>
<div class="p1">
in our moment of communal solitude</div>
<div class="p1">
i whispered</div>
<div class="p1">
i can see inside you.</div>
<div class="p1">
its just my soul hovering</div>
<div class="p1">
between us,</div>
<div class="p1">
she replied,</div>
<div class="p1">
i'm miles away.</div>
<div class="p1">
i can see beyond you</div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
now my body's free to roam.</div>
</div>
shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-20612354795128926642015-03-11T04:16:00.002-07:002015-03-11T04:16:30.637-07:00she<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="p1">
She had nothing but time on her hands</div>
<div class="p1">
and flowers on her palms,</div>
<div class="p1">
blossoming psalms that spoke of forever.</div>
<div class="p1">
She took the sun in her mouth,</div>
<div class="p1">
placing rays on her tongue</div>
<div class="p1">
filtering beams to her lungs</div>
<div class="p1">
until her words glowed with existence.</div>
<div class="p1">
She speaks an illuminated language</div>
<div class="p1">
coloured with blood and years</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
She wrapped her hands in syllables </div>
<div class="p1">
and placed them on her womb,</div>
<div class="p1">
crescent shape radiating words of the sun.</div>
<div class="p1">
Years habituating deceased cultures </div>
<div class="p1">
forced her to speak a language extinct,</div>
<div class="p1">
some strange garble of projected stigma.</div>
<div class="p1">
Now, bearing an unlikely future </div>
<div class="p1">
heir to nothing yet all the air</div>
<div class="p1">
she would be taught from the inside out,</div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
enlightened.</div>
</div>
shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-69540251760595500692015-03-11T04:11:00.003-07:002015-03-11T04:11:48.653-07:00darkness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="p1">
i refuse to be seen by mortals</div>
<div class="p1">
trading dreams for seams of a badly fitted perception.</div>
<div class="p1">
So wrap me with the night,</div>
<div class="p1">
that my flight may go unnoticed </div>
<div class="p1">
by terrestrial beings who only see matter </div>
<div class="p1">
radiating light.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Mine is a cloak of darkness</div>
<div class="p1">
devoid of all historical connotations.</div>
<div class="p1">
For as man evolved</div>
<div class="p1">
beyond the superficial elements of flesh,</div>
<div class="p1">
some wouldn't believe and stumbled the earth</div>
<div class="p1">
with eyes rolled back in their sockets.</div>
<div class="p1">
Forgetting that the pupil is such,</div>
<div class="p1">
in learning to see beyond itself.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
those who saw the light embraced the darkness</div>
<div class="p1">
and the mysteries of the unseen</div>
<div class="p1">
now they have surrendered</div>
<div class="p1">
and prostrate themselves to the will of the universe.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Led by the darkness</div>
<div class="p1">
that guides stars.</div>
<div class="p1">
Planets seldom use torch lights</div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
to navigate the sun.</div>
</div>
shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-30507781845821298152015-03-11T04:10:00.000-07:002015-03-11T04:10:11.701-07:00Hand me the sun<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="p1">
Hand me the sun and i'll carve waves from rays,</div>
<div class="p1">
bottled streams of beams</div>
<div class="p1">
shimmering like the tide on a cloudless night.</div>
<div class="p1">
Contained motion,</div>
<div class="p1">
rocking with the flow of blood through veins,</div>
<div class="p1">
life matter contained </div>
<div class="p1">
aglow with the sea's jubilant movement.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
The tide is the earth's heartbeat,</div>
<div class="p1">
i etch this pulse through the sun,</div>
<div class="p1">
causing light to come in staves</div>
<div class="p1">
bars of transparent rhythm captured</div>
<div class="p1">
in a moment seen through my vase.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Can i now ingest this earth essence?</div>
<div class="p1">
that my body may contain waves of light</div>
<div class="p1">
so my soul can move and glow</div>
<div class="p1">
with the tidal flow of an encapsulated </div>
<div class="p1">
wilderness brought to sight.</div>
<div class="p1">
that i may dance</div>
<div class="p1">
through nights and converse through days</div>
<div class="p1">
with this rhythmic sway</div>
<div class="p1">
moving through me and in me,</div>
<div class="p1">
and in this moment of motion,</div>
<div class="p1">
i shall be free to see</div>
<div class="p1">
the glow that came before,</div>
<div class="p1">
before i was flesh,</div>
<div class="p1">
before i was motion,</div>
<div class="p1">
before there was motion.</div>
<br />
<div class="p1">
And the sea continues to be lit.</div>
</div>
shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-47651222829858009112014-10-10T13:27:00.002-07:002014-10-10T13:27:25.462-07:00Julius Eastman: Stay on It (1973)<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/9X3j_76VBvI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-55008810108108342252014-09-17T03:03:00.002-07:002014-09-17T03:03:20.543-07:00Kit Grill - Velodrome (Hello Skinny cover)<iframe width="100%" height="450" scrolling="no" frameborder="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/166754624&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true"></iframe>shabakahutchingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03033616315804677922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7313210288034706366.post-11482385748759943992014-07-23T03:37:00.001-07:002014-07-23T03:37:20.816-07:00A meditation on my experience with the Sun Ra Arkestra<img alt="shabaka knoel" height="342" src="http://static.bbc.co.uk/programmeimages/608xn/images/p021wxr7.jpg" style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 1em;" title="shabaka knoel" width="608" /><br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 20.80000114440918px;">
<div id="_mcePaste" style="height: 1px; left: -10000px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; top: 224px; width: 1px;">
I've always been attracted to the rebels. Not the Hollywood types donning a leather jacket, a balaclava, a Molotov aimed at the gates of authority. These characters, necessary as they are, have never been ones I could relate to. I resonate with those who perceive the totality of the zeitgeist we inhabit (or which has come before). Characters who suggest alternate orthodoxies which challenge us to sculpt the future rather than wade through a tide of inevitability.</div>
<div id="_mcePaste" style="height: 1px; left: -10000px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; top: 224px; width: 1px;">
When I first encountered Sun Ra's work, his philosophies regarding our connection to the cosmos and the importance of myth in decoding and interpreting reality hit me. It hit me like no jazz musician's words had before. Maybe no-one before him was lucid enough to articulate such a complex value system or willing to tell it to a world governed by scepticism and squareness. Ra wasn't content to let critics second guess and misinterpret his eccentricities - he let the world know that he meant everything. No halfsteppin'.</div>
<div id="_mcePaste" style="height: 1px; left: -10000px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; top: 224px; width: 1px;">
Ra expounded the intricacies of his inner world fully appreciating his placement in the lineage of ancient systems of thought. These weren't loony theories propelled at an oppressive society in hopes of disassociating from it. They were ways of seeing, interacting with and accepting reality which had roots in many ancient mystic schools of thought (notably from ancient Egypt/kemet ). This was a timeless way of being, at once looking forward into a future ridiculed by those caught up in accepted patterns of living, yet seeing far back into a past they chose to forget or discredit. And such is the music of Sun Ra, stretching towards sonic futurism while laying it's foundations within the jazz tradition.</div>
<div id="_mcePaste" style="height: 1px; left: -10000px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; top: 224px; width: 1px;">
A word of advice from an Arkestra member the day before I sit in - 'Marshall will want your all. Whatever you do, don't hold back. This will change your life.'I've always been attracted to the rebels. Not the Hollywood types donning a leather jacket, a balaclava, a Molotov aimed at the gates of authority. These characters, necessary as they are, have never been ones I could relate to. I resonate with those who perceive the totality of the zeitgeist we inhabit (or which has come before). Characters who suggest alternate orthodoxies which challenge us to sculpt the future rather than wade through a tide of inevitability.When I first encountered Sun Ra's work, his philosophies regarding our connection to the cosmos and the importance of myth in decoding and interpreting reality hit me. It hit me like no jazz musician's words had before. Maybe no-one before him was lucid enough to articulate such a complex value system or willing to tell it to a world governed by scepticism and squareness. Ra wasn't content to let critics second guess and misinterpret his eccentricities - he let the world know that he meant everything. No halfsteppin'.</div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 20.80000114440918px;">
<div>
I've always been attracted to the rebels. Not the Hollywood types donning a leather jacket, a balaclava, a Molotov aimed at the gates of authority. These characters, necessary as they are, have never been ones I could relate to. I resonate with those who perceive the totality of the zeitgeist we inhabit (or which has come before). Characters who suggest alternate orthodoxies which challenge us to sculpt the future rather than wade through a tide of inevitability.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
When I first encountered Sun Ra's work, his philosophies regarding our connection to the cosmos and the importance of myth in decoding and interpreting reality hit me. It hit me like no jazz musician's words had before. Maybe no-one before him was lucid enough to articulate such a complex value system or willing to tell it to a world governed by scepticism and squareness. Ra wasn't content to let critics second guess and misinterpret his eccentricities - he let the world know that he meant everything. No halfsteppin'.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Ra expounded the intricacies of his inner world fully appreciating his placement in the lineage of ancient systems of thought. These weren't loony theories propelled at an oppressive society in hopes of disassociating from it. They were ways of seeing, interacting with and accepting reality which had roots in many ancient mystic schools of thought (notably from ancient Egypt/kemet ). This was a timeless way of being, at once looking forward into a future ridiculed by those caught up in accepted patterns of living, yet seeing far back into a past they chose to forget or discredit. And such is the music of Sun Ra, stretching towards sonic futurism while laying its foundations within the jazz tradition.</div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 20.80000114440918px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 20.80000114440918px;">
A word of advice from an Arkestra member the day before I sit in - 'Marshall will want your all. Whatever you do, don't hold back. This will change your life.'</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 20.80000114440918px;">
<span class="imgAlignLeft" id="BlogImgp021wxkw" style="clear: both; display: block; line-height: 1em; margin: 10px 0px 12px;"><span class="asset"><img alt="Arkestra Rehearsal Shot" height="342" src="http://static.bbc.co.uk/programmeimages/608xn/images/p021wxkw.jpg" title="Arkestra Rehearsal Shot" width="608" /></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 20.80000114440918px;">
We rehearse. The attention to detail is staggering. Exact chord changes are negotiated, precise phrasing and articulations explained. All roads lead to Marshall Allen. He signs off on the musical decisions with a level of insight and frankness allowed only to a 90-year-old veteran. Moments of personal interpretation are granted, framed with precision when needed. But this isn't the stiff, dry big band machine one finds churning out correct interpretations of a bygone era. <span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">The band functions as an organism, a living entity breathing life through every phrase. Each tune summons a microcosmic world exploding with manic, magical energy.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #262626; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 20.80000114440918px;">
<span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;"><br /></span></div>
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We perform at Cafe Oto. Awe. Marshall Allen solos on 'Dancing Shadows'. I am left gasping for words. Words charged enough to give life to pure feeling. I struggle to give structure to thoughts so discombobulated by this spectacle of joy that I can merely laugh at the audacity of what emerges from his horn. This is how you play avant garde saxophone. You immense yourself in the energy of the ensemble and you expand it from within, pushing against the wall of a vortex created by each band member's creative contribution. <span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">Marshall created a sheet of sound. An actual physical mass of sonic stuff. Stuff so powerful it was almost tangible. Well, in terms of the way I perceived it, it was tangible. But where i stood in relation to this animated mass wasn't within the realms of my senses - my heart, soul, spirit, whatever esoteric terms one would describe the inner self with - this was what was touched, assaulted by this most physical of music. By the end of the solo, I felt I'd drifted from this world. This world of explanations, priorities, logic and reason. All those things that root us in the belief that we inhabit objective reality... that reality's borders cannot be breached to perceive other worlds.</span></div>
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A word of advice from Marshall after the first set: 'You don't have to know what you're doing. If you don't know you've got to just feel, and the feeling is the important thing. There are no mistakes.'</div>
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The band swung. It swung so hard the walls holding the music together started to rattle. Initially listeners encounter fear of collapse but the band stormed ahead, destroying and rebuilding. And once the fear subsided, all acknowledged this fearless bunch in praise. These individuals who build their houses in the leaves of trees bearing deep roots. Those free to move within and throughout history, sculpting a path glistening with imagination.</div>
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There are times when a love of the instrument I play comes to me in stark sonic bliss. Chances to hear old masters of the tenor saxophone are becoming fewer and further between as the older generation steadily passes. I'm sharing tenor sax duties with Charles Davis. This man is the real deal, wielding a sound at once heartbreaking and serene. It contains the spirit of the players I love - Dexter Gordon, Lester Young, John Coltrane. <span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">The sound of their intentions. A sound which resonates with the same stuff that as a teenager first grabbed me and shook my mind, revealing the beauty of jazz. Awestruck, I ask him some mundane, college-boy question about his equipment. He replies in a monotone characteristic of his general demeanour - 'I play whatever works'. Full stop. I worry about mouthpieces and reeds; he just deals with the music.</span></div>
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A moment of enlightenment during our recording session. Marshall Allen plays 'Wish upon a Star'. He chooses fragments of the melody which he carefully caresses and deforms. The unnerving paradox of nurturing the thing you love then letting it go, free to grow into an entity of its own choosing. I see the purpose of those sax cries, celestial squeals and shouts: drama. His playing contains real drama. Mystery and shadows inhabit the foundation of his musical conception. His music is poetic.</div>
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The thoughts I am left with revolve around the concept of tradition. Questions emerge forcing me to confront its elasticity. The flexible fibre of this construct which enables us to redefine what we perceive to be the present, the terms by which we choose to live.</div>
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Defining the old and the new, realising the irrelevance of these terms, pondering meaning implicit in concepts which force us to negate infinity - this is a precarious dance. A dance which tempts us to dare define the age we inhabit and the possibilities at our disposal. In the words of the great Sun Ra himself - 'there are other worlds....space is the place'.</div>
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