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Kalamu ya Salaam's information blog

 

photo by Alex Lear

photo by Alex Lear

 

 

TENDER WARRIOR

 

“The best music causes molecular changes in the atmosphere around the players and their audience. Once you hear the music you are never the same. We go out somewhere and we don’t come back the same.”
– Charles Lloyd

 

1.

haiku #117

 

fish out of water

art shot from the bow of gods

we rise above self

 

 

2.

Crowds during the New Orleans Jazz Fest Saturday, May 2, 2015. (Photo by David Grunfeld, NOLA.com | The Times-Picayune)

Saturday, 2 May 2015—my daughter Asante, the eldest of five siblings, was hanging with me. We were rushing across the crowded infield of the Fair Grounds racetrack to catch an interview with Charles Lloyd being conducted by writer Ashley Khan at what’s called the Alison Minor stage located on the second floor of the Grandstands. This was the second Saturday and Jazzfest was packed like proverbial sardines. Attendance was humongous, particularly because the first weekend had been rainy and now the seventy-something-degree, blue sky weather was near perfect for an outdoor festival.

 

With my credentials hanging from a lanyard around my neck, we had no trouble negotiating pass security. Back in the mid-eighties I had served as executive director and still receive amenities even though I had not maintained an active presence. The festival was much larger, more corporate, the line-up far more commercially oriented, the crowds much more monochromatic. Major success in America inevitably means less rather than greater local, neighborhood-level control and audiences. From attending Jazzfest you would never know New Orleans is a majority black city.

 

Asante told me tickets were $70. ($58 in advance, $70 at the gate)

 

 

3.

It had been years, indeed over a decade since I had last seen master Lloyd, but when he came off stage from the interview session and I identified myself, the spark of recognition rose quickly to his cat-shaped eyes. He embraced me warmly in a welcoming hug. I told him I had one question I wanted to ask in a brief interview. People were crowding around, some seeking an audience, one or two staff people with forms to fill out, Lloyd’s wife, photographer/filmmaker Dorothy Darr, patiently hovered off to the side in a non-intrusive way watching over him. His performance in the jazz tent would take place in a little over an hour. I could record him backstage after his set. Then Charles motioned to Dorothy for her to photograph us.

 lloyd and kalamu

 

 

4.

The jazz tent was full. The sound was adequate, albeit a bit too much boom and echo on the bottom but this was outdoors in an extremely large tent, four, five hundred people, probably many more. I’m not good at crowd estimates. I was sitting stage right on metal bleachers behind the folding chairs set up for crew and Jazzfest special guests. Decades ago there was room enough to stretch out and lie on the ground while listening to a kora player’s melodic meditations. The festival was now all hustle and bustle, not one quiet square inch of space for kicking back and relaxing. Nevertheless Lloyd’s hour-long set was enjoyable—Gerald Clayton was killing on piano.

 

What used to be one large trailer at the top end for the then “big names” was now a veritable compound of trailers hooked up like a mid-level hotel suite. The third room had a comfortable sofa and a table loaded with eats. I had not planned to do this interview but I did have my iphone with a recording app. You can hear part of our conversation below:

 

 

5.

That night master Lloyd posted on the internet. 

charles lloyd 09 

Some days we smile, some days we frown. This was a smiling day. 

 

—kalamu ya salaam