Friday, October 25, 2013

Sonny, Sonny, Sonny




Sonny, Sonny, Sonny.  Thank you once again Mr. Rollins for opening up your Aeolus lungs this morning and filling my sails.  We’re moving now.  Dolphins leaping off the side of the boat, cutting through traffic, stopping on a corner, turn, lights, go.  Music crafted for the complexity of urban pedestrians.  Helios must have heard my call and swapped an ‘o’ for a ‘u’ as even the sun has now made an appearance in particulate Beijing.

I found an album I didn’t know called “Sonny Rollins First Recordings 1957.”  I’m not sure why it’s called that.  He’d been recording for years.  Perhaps this set was on January 2nd of that year.  I can’t find a damn thing about it on line, including who was playing on the date.  The “Sonny Moon for Two” is slow and pensive.  I’ve long had a vinyl version of this on “A Night at the Village Vanguard” when he is playing with the mighty Elvin Jones on drums and Wilber Ware on bass, also from 1957. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Night_at_the_Village_Vanguard



I have been fortunate enough to see the distinguished gentleman on two occasions, years ago.  One time was in a big impersonal auditorium at Tufts University when I was grad student at the Fletcher School.  We were way up back and he called out to everyone “what do you want to hear?”  No one said anything and there was a prolonged moment of awkwardness.  The hall was just too big.

Another time was down in the city off Union Square at a small venue the name of which escapes me and it has long since closed.  I remember the Village Voice had simple blurb next to his picture saying “’Ta da’.  The world’s greatest musician.”  I went with a Senegalese friend who was so excited.   “I called my brother and said you are not going to believe who I am going to see tonight, man!”  And it was a much better vibe.  It seemed that as Sonny stood there, strong, swinging his hips, feet planted that he was connected down into the entire city and to everywhere that night.

The world could easily have missed the greatest musician.  Born in NYC of West Indian parents, Sonny Rollins was sent up to Rikers Island at the age of twenty for armed robbery.  I taught in Brownsville Brooklyn for years and I can remember going and visiting students who’d been put away in Rikers.  It looks different up close than it does flying over it on your way out from LaGuardia airport.  I remember standing in line with so many young mothers with their kids.  No one is happy.  Kids are running and screaming.  Mothers are whacking them around, hard.  How many other “world’s greatest” people, are stuck inside, on account of their own choices or otherwise? 

Presumably Sonny gave himself a talking to and came out blowing.  How important it is to forgive, to reframe, to start anew and hold yourself to something higher.   Not every person sitting in Rikers Island will get that chance.  But hope certainly is audacious and indomitable.  Who would have believed that that kid with the deep eyes, sitting there in cell in 1950 would have been awarded a medal by a black president, exactly 60 years later? 

I’ve been pushing this theme of reconciliation in North Asia for most of this week.  It has my attention. Every month for so long now, I’m in Seoul and then Tokyo and then back home to Beijing.  I’m across to Taipei.  I’m over to Hong Kong.  I’m riding down to Shanghai.  Conversations in each city, polite, business like, until the day is done.  And then people begin to reflect on otherness.

People’s opinions about their neighbors don’t offer much nuance.   The attitudes, the prejudices are all predictable.  People distrust, dislike and often hate one another.  Generally these opinions are buttressed by no physical exploration of the place concerned, whatsoever.  People who are smart, and worldly default to racist reductions that in another context would be impermissible.  Binary, 你死我活[1]there is no way out.   Outsiders nod, chew along for the ride and figure, that’s how it is.

I am other to it all.  There are of course feelings of distrust and hatred towards America and Americans as well, with corresponding cross winds the other direction.  But I think it is safe to say these are usually complicated feelings, a mixture of love and hate, admiration and disdain.  Your average Beijing cab driver’s take on Japan is mixture of hate and loathing.



The 700-year-old hatreds in Belfast or Derry that seemed completely frozen in perpetuity, finally can and do thaw.  There is a confluence of economic, political and spiritual possibilities mixed with great, great humility that allows a Martin McGuiness to shake hands with a Queen Elizabeth.  And we all know that there’s plenty of pungent hate still left lapping about.  The point is that what was clearly immutable, wasn’t really at all.   

Regular readers will know I am reading Maya Angelou’s “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” with my daughter these days.  Consider the ground covered from the life she depicts as a ten year-old African American girl in St. Louis in the 1930s to the proud woman she was receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom from Barak Obama two years ago.  To quote Ms. Angelou "We are growing up beyond the idiocies of racism and sexism."

Could a little girl imagine a black president from the St. Louis of 1938?  Could a monarch during the vitriol of ‘the troubles” imagine a photo op with the man who all but certainly gave the order to blow apart her “Uncle Dickie?”   I do think it’s important that we insist upon a long view where idiocy of racism, for example, eventually gives way to reason and reconciliation.  Where new generations do get to start anew.

Sonny got a chance to start anew.  And, eventually, he made the best of it, and became the best of them.   Other guys didn't.   It’s true.  And other conflicts continue on, unerring, seemingly forever.  But if we’ve seen racial reconciliation, if we’ve seen in our life, ignorance that gives way to moral clarity, if we believe in the potential of the species to evolve, we should insist on it, wherever we are.   

I’ve grown tired of chewing along here in North Asia.  This may be how it is.  But it needn’t be.







[1] nǐsǐwǒhuó:  lit. you die, I live (idiom); irreconcilable adversaries / two parties cannot coexist

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