Showing posts with label Charles Mingus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charles Mingus. Show all posts

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Claudia Roth Pierpont's "Black, Brown, and Beige" is a review of several recent books about Duke Ellington, but it concludes with an image of Charles Mingus that brought tears to my eyes:

Two years before Ellington died, in 1972, Yale University held a gathering of leading black jazz musicians in order to raise money for a department of African-American music. Aside from Ellington, the musicians who came for three days of concerts, jam sessions, and workshops included Eubie Blake, Noble Sissle, Dizzy Gillespie, Charles Mingus, Max Roach, Mary Lou Williams, and Willie (the Lion) Smith. During a performance by a Gillespie-led sextet, someone evidently unhappy with this presence on campus called in a bomb threat. The police attempted to clear the building, but Mingus refused to leave, urging the officers to get all the others out but adamantly remaining onstage with his bass. “Racism planted that bomb, but racism ain’t strong enough to kill this music,” he was heard telling the police captain. (And very few people successfully argued with Mingus.) “If I’m going to die, I’m ready. But I’m going out playing ‘Sophisticated Lady.’ ” Once outside, Gillespie and his group set up again. But coming from inside was the sound of Mingus intently playing Ellington’s dreamy thirties hit, which, that day, became a protest song, as the performance just kept going on and on and getting hotter. In the street, Ellington stood in the waiting crowd just beyond the theatre’s open doors, smiling.

Who else but Mingus would have come up with an act like that? Well, maybe Charlie Haden, who dedicated "Song for Che" to freedom fighters in Angola and Mozambique while performing in Lisbon in 1971. See here for his version of the story.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Max Roach

One of the more startling musical performances I ever saw was when Max Roach played a hi-hat solo as the encore to his concert with his quartet in Oakland in the mid-eighties (which was also the only time I ever saw Dizzy Gillespie and Sam Rivers, Dizzy's quintet with Rivers being the second part of that double bill). Max brought his hi-hat down to the front of the stage and played a whole piece of music just with the hi-hat and two drumsticks. I was later told that this was a standard trick of his, but so what? It was brilliant.

And the wondrous tune "A Little Max," on Duke Ellington's Money Jungle (a trio recording with Charles Mingus)—what a player Max was.

Max Roach, 1924-2007