Will Fill the Air Today

Reading the paper.  It isn’t paper.  It’s the New York Times website.  Taking more time that I otherwise might.  Sure.  I’ll read that.  During a weekday I might have skipped it.  I’ll look down here at this section to notice something that was only posted up on the site a few minutes back:  Randy Weston has passed away. 

I remember when I didn’t know that name.  I was invited to a concert at the Other Minds festival in Yerba Buena park in San Francisco to see Randy Weston, the jazz pianist and his orchestra.  And I can remember him introducing the song “African Cookbook” and being dazzled by the full, spacious sound that rose and fell over and over.

Born in Brooklyn, the son of a restauranteur, he was in the scene from an early age and not only became enamoured with Monk, he became chums and apparently drove Thelonious to gigs.  And I suppose many young people hung out with Monk but I don’t suppose very many of them learned piano improvisation, the way Randy Weston did.  How fortuitous for him and for everyone that they became acquainted. 

After serving in World War II he was part of a state sponsored tour of jazz, which brought him to Africa.  (Would that there were more state sponsored tours of jazz, today.)  And unlike all the jazz guys to moved to Paris or moved to Copenhagen, Randy Weston decided to resettle in Tangiers and travel throughout West Africa.  It was his father, a Panamanian immigrant, the obit suggested, that oriented him towards the importance of African history.  And it helped to ground him and convince him of the obvious which at the time must have been so much harder to defend:  that jazz is fundamentally African music. 

“Blue Moses” then, now.  Loud.  Randy Weston’s music will fill the air today and for the day after that.  There is quite a bit of wonderful music to re-explore, offering up our thanks, as his ninety-two year old spirt makes its way off.

Sunday, 9/2/18