27th Annual San Francisco Jazz Festival
By Frank Consola27th Annual San Francisco Jazz Festival
San Francisco, California
October 10-November 21, 2009
Keb’ Mo’ at SFJAZZ
Posted By mary On November 20, 2009 @ 10:48 pm In Culture Stories | No Comments
I hadn’t known the handsome Keb’ Mo’ (birth name Kevin Moore) prior to this introduction, but he made an impression – his “Peace, Back by Popular Demand” my personal soundtrack and many of my fans’ too. I recall driving to the Maafa Ritual a few years ago blasting it with the windows down to stay awake to the beach and on the way back to Oakland, singing: “Someday We’ll All Be Free,” (“What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding” and Keb’ Mo’s classic remix of “Wake Up Everybody,” perfect at 3:30 a.m. cruising up Geary Boulevard and down Fulton to Oak feeling like Whoopie Goldberg in “Corrina, Corrina” – blowing at the traffic signals’ green.
I also didn’t know Solomon Burke, who is performing with Keb’ Mo’ and his band this Saturday, Nov. 21, 8 p.m., for SFJAZZ at the Paramount Theatre in San Francisco until “Lightning in a Bottle,” but then enlightenment doesn’t have a timeline. Whether it’s 2004 or 2009, there’s always time to meet a fine artist or, in this case, artists.
Keb’ Mo’, who says he grew up in Compton surrounded by blues – a name he doesn’t particularly care for, the blues often associated with sad stories and hard luck lives – didn’t really come into the music until his 30s. Blues is a mature music. It’s an adult language, seeped in suffering, something artists who didn’t travel through the Atlantic triangle and along the way lose not just a language and a history but access to the richness – a heritage everyone else seems to have access to except its rightful heirs and owners – can’t seem to feel even if their music makes us pat our feet or sing along, even if they too have suffered and perhaps share ancient blood ties. This is what Senegalese by way of Mali musician Habib Koité told me, and he has jammed with Taj Mahal and the late Ali Farka Touré, who doesn’t agree.
Keb’ Mo’ sounded relaxed when we spoke for almost an hour on the phone a couple of days prior to his gig this weekend. He was in a contemplative mood and went deep along metaphysical charts – not unchartered, just somewhat unexpected, but hey air signs are like that and as an official twin I can go in a lot of directions all at once, so I was happy to be invited.
Just out with a new album, on his own label, Yolabelle International (look at the logo on the CD – it’s really cool), “Live and Mo’” features six live tracks and four studio. The artist tells stories which reflect the American social and cultural landscape. Take for instance “Government Cheese,” referencing the orange blocks or cheese bricks, bigger than Legos but just right for adding an edition onto one’s house. The cheese, along with powered milk and farina kept and keeps many children from starving. Afghanistan is not the only place where this government drops bags of groceries on poor communities. The good thing about these government handouts though is that in America they are not laced with explosives.
On his “A Brand New America” one is reminded of the song “America the Beautiful” – all the potential we almost forgot during the horrendous Bush years. Keb’ Mo’ said he hadn’t noticed themes when putting the record together, but in retrospect agreed that in an uncanny way it did have that intentional coherence which marks all of his projects thus far.
“It’s my first release on my label and I am stepping out into the world,” Keb’ Mo’ says with a smile in his voice. “I looked into the cosmos and it said, ‘It’s Yo-labelle.’ I don’t know why I want to have my own label, that’s why I put one out, to see. It’s not that I have been treated badly. I am grateful for everything that has come to me. I finished my contract at Sony, and when I finished the music industry had changed and there was nothing to keep me there. I had offers from other labels …
“I have two albums I am working on and I am feeling my way through the next part of my life, so I went over how does that look to me. I am looking for clarity. I am going toward clarity, away from vagueness.
“In the universe, you have to be clear about what you want to get what you want.” The artist spoke of issues he hadn’t dealt with which he felt he needed to take care of now. He spoke of taking a hiatus and going inward: writing, meditating, taking care of his health and thinking about the next 42 years – he plans to live, minimally for 100 years. When he spoke of calling the spirits of departed souls, I was reminded of his character in “Possum” in John Sayles’ “Honeydripper” (2007) starring Danny Glover.
Possum is a ghost who is only visible to Sonny (Gary Clark Jr.) encouraging him to find his voice and then sing. I was really disappointed when at the Monterey Jazz Festival’s 50th Anniversary year in 2006 where the Honeydripper Band performed and John Sayles gave a talk which featured clips among them a special one with Ruth Brown, who died that year, and Keb’ Mo’ wasn’t there.
“I never really thought about the album ‘Live & Mo’’ the way you speak about it until now,” he said. “I went through my live performances and looked for high quality work and things I wanted to share. So for the album to have a theme to it was completely unintentional. Judging from your comment, it does have a theme to it: political, social overtones to it.
“’Government Cheese’ is about welfare cheese; ‘Brand New America’ is a song of hope. It’s the way I see America, you know? It’s the opportunity I see before us, the country we can be. These are the times, we are the people and the dream is alive. I thought Obama ran too early, but ‘if not now, when?’” He then begins to riff on the lyrics of the song. This particular song includes the voices of the Agape Children’s Choir. Extremely apropos.
“This is our time; we are the people. This country – whatever has been snatched out of our hands that we have no control over – is our own doing. We are the people and the dream is alive and the ability to dream – everything starts with a dream. Our dreams are important. George Bush was a big part of founding this new paradigm – this was his gift to us. From the mountains and valleys, from the desert to the sea – that’s everyone, a brand new America, calling to me.
“If it weren’t for his bumbling/stumbling mistakes (I am not certain which word Keb’ Mo’ used but both work). The words, No Child Left Behind (etc.), took on a new meaning. It’s our time to usher in health care for everyone, peace, not war. This is the time we can create that, right now. I wrote that for people here, so maybe this piece can wake up the mind to that dream, to that feeling.
“Every lyric in that song was carefully crafted. We all have a story. We are the people. I haven’t pushed the song or promoted it. I guess I’m a little shy because it means so much to me, ‘A Brand New America.’” (Enjoy the video, below.)
“I’m not as young as you think,” the artist tells me. “I just turned 58. Blues comes from where it comes from. It is a huge part of what I do, but I am having trouble with the stigma attached to it. It’s kind of sad it was called the blues. Maybe it should have been called something else, because it is so much more than just ‘the blues.’
“As you stated yourself, I’m a storytelling, talking truth, calling forth souls and making them heal. I’m a metaphysical guy more than a blues guy, you know? I use the blues as my transport – I use the music as an evolution of myself and hopefully as an evolution of others to spread that truth. Being born in Southern California, being a blues guy, that kind of came later on, in my 30s when I started to be exposed – I’d been exposed, but I started to hear it.”
Keb’ Mo’ played with Jefferson Airplane violinist Papa John Creach when he was 21, appearing on four albums, yet it was his stint with Monk Higgins, Bobby “Blue” Bland’s producer’s Whodunit Band, which was his entre into the hardcore blues genre. He also jammed with Albert Collins and Big Joe Turner, where he certainly polished and refined his chops, later joining a vocal group called the Rose Brothers and gigging around L.A.
But I think it was his role in the play, “Rabbit Foot” (1990), where the musician, actor, singer played a Delta Bluesman and later in his role in the docudrama, “Can’t You Hear the Wind Howl?” (1997), narrated by Danny Glover, where he played Robert Johnson (1911-38), the bluesman who was offered the deal of a lifetime, that Keb’ Mo’ came into his own incarnation. It’s said Johnson took the deal and so did Keb’ Mo’, changing his name and all – something about those esoteric decisions: They really rocket one’s career. Keb’ Mo’s was already sailing and he landed in the saddle and he’s been riding ever since, seemingly without reins or stirrups.
His 1994 release of the self-titled “Keb’ Mo’” with two Robert Johnson covers, “Come on in My Kitchen” and “Kind Hearted Woman Blues,” was a natural progression and made folks sit up and take notice. His scoring of the Martin Scorsese miniseries, “The Blues,” a highly contested miniseries around here for the West Coast artists left out, was another notch in the belt. We debated fiercely here in the San Francisco Bay Area this omission with the director and/or his representatives at a special screening. He was joined on the panel by Ronnie Stewart, Bay Area Blues Society Caravan of All-Stars, and resident historian.
It’s a good thing Black folks are telling the story too – important people like Ronnie and Amiri Baraka with his classics, “Blues People” and “Black Music,” and fine artists like painter James Gayles, whose “Bay Area Blues Artists” exhibition and catalog featuring Bobby Blue Bland, Big Mama Thornton, King Oliver and others document this period and the San Francisco Bay Area, specifically Oakland and the greater East Bay, like Richmond and Russell City’s ignored and overlooked blues legacy.
Keb’ Mo’s 1996 release, “Just Like You,” garnered his first Grammy and featured 12 songs full of Delta rhythms and included as guest artists Bonnie Raitt and Jackson Browne on his “Just Like You,” easily a cult classic – it’s all over the web. One can even find ring tones. I was also surprised to find “Perpetual Blues Machine” on this album too. It’s on the new release “Keb’ Mo’ Live & Mo’.” Really cool stuff.
I have to get a copy of all his Grammy award winning albums. I also wasn’t aware that Dr. Dre is a Compton native too. I wonder if the two men know each other? And the last wow is that my mother might have met Keb’ Mo’ as Kevin Moore when they both worked for A&M Records in Beverly Hills before A&M was bought out by Seagram’s – Keb’ Mo’ long gone when this happened.
This music video of “Just Like You” reminds one of the Michael Jackson music video – ”We Are the World,” which has people morphing into each other. Keb’ Mo’ takes photographs and posts them in what becomes a collage. (This video too is posted below.)
Catch the wonderful artist, Keb’ Mo’, a handsome, beautiful Black man whose work is just as lovely as he is, this weekend, Saturday, Nov. 21, 8 p.m., at Oakland’s historic Paramount Theatre on Broadway at 20th Street. Visit www.sfjazz.org [3]. The weather is certainly not inviting presently, but once you get inside the theatre, which is across the street from the 19th Street BART (come up at 20th), Keb’ Mo’ and special guest Solomon Burke will make you forget whatever you thought was more important that being in the house with them.
Check out this song, which talks a little about growing up in Compton: “More than One Way Home.” (See below.)
It’s a grooving tune, Keb’ Mo’ playing slide guitar, wearing sunglasses and his pork pie hat. Don’t ever believe that there is only one answer to the important question or that the answers are all sold out or deposited in someone else’s account. Perhaps when I get a moment I will have time to transcribe the rest of this wonderful interview, but as time is of the essence, I wanted to get this filed before he’s gone and you missed him and are mad at me (smile).
1, Keb' Mo', Solomon Burke. I always love it when the San Francisco Jazz Festival travels across the Bay Bridge. So I'd probably pick this show no matter who was playing. The fact that it's a double-bill of Keb' Mo' (pictured) and Solomon Burke, two tremendous talents, is an added bonus. Mo' is one of the most exciting bluesmen in the game, and Burke is a true soul/R&B music legend. This should be a fine finale for the 27th annual event.
Details: 8 p.m. Saturday; Paramount Theatre, 2025 Broadway, Oakland; $20-$65; 866-920-5299, www.sfjazz.org.
Ornette Coleman :: 11.08.09 :: Davies Symphony Hall :: San Francisco, CA
After being ushered to our plush velvet seats and handed programs by men in bowties, a well dressed individual introduced the band, noting that it was 50 years to the month since Coleman first burst onto the jazz scene with his residency at The Five Spot in New York in 1959, igniting controversy throughout the jazz world with his avant-garde playing. The band then took the stage, the 79-year-old Coleman looking humble and gracious in a maroon suit. Picking up his trademark white plastic alto sax, he looked to his bandmates for the cue, and then it began.
Within the first 30 seconds it was clear that this would not be any sort of typical jazz concert. The band came flying out of the gates at breakneck speed with a rollicking free-form composition that sounded like it was going to run off its rails at any moment. Coleman's musical world has always existed outside of typical tonality and melody, and it was clear that he would hold nothing back tonight. His most recent record, 2006's Pulitzer Prize-winning Sound Grammar, is a good representation of this band's current sound, but even the music on that record sounds surprisingly accessible and grounded in tradition compared to the outer realms that Coleman took us to on this night. With his son Denardo Coleman behind him furiously pounding the kit and propelling the music forward, Ornette blew wild, jagged harmonic phrases which transcended any form of typical melody, entering the realm of pure expression.
And then there was Ornette. Standing thin and spry center stage, it was easy to hear that he was the musical leader of the band. His wild, foreign phrasing wrapped knots around your head, unbound by any musical reins that we understand. His gnarled horn lines acted like a searchlight probing into the musical unknown. Wherever he ventured, his band innately and effortlessly followed suit, all flowing together in free consciousness. At times he would switch to trumpet, other times violin, which he would bow with a soul-wrenching, haunting drone. One song began with Falanga bowing a Bach fugue on bass, then morphed into a showcase for Coleman's violin, on which he tweaked-out before switching to sax and bringing it home. Another tune brought the music down to earth a bit with some standard jazz melodies, which Coleman eventually morphed to new heights with his angular, left-of-center sax solos.
The shape-shifting fluidity and psychic chemistry of the musicians' playing could be taken on a number of levels. On casual listen, their dense free-form improvisation seemed chaotic and distorted; at times everyone seemed to be playing separate, dissonant parts that didn't fit together. But once fans moved into the right headspace to hear this alien language, once immersed in the sound the music washed over bodies, and you could hear the alchemy that was occurring. The stream-of-consciousness pouring out of this band was incredible. All the musicians were swimming in a deep musical ether of complexity, which few could truly understand, but the feeling and soul that came out of such beautiful cacophony was astounding. This music was clearly coming from a deep, deep place in them, a place that transcended western tonality as we know it. Through their technical harmonic understanding and musical chemistry, this band had found real order in chaos, and succeeded in expressing themselves through unadulterated sound.
November 16, 2009 at 9:00 AM
During the 40's and '50's, San Francisco earned the moniker "Harlem of the West" for its flourishing blues and jazz community, centered in the Fillmore district. So it's no accident that the nation's largest jazz nonprofit calls our city home. SFJAZZ is an internationally acclaimed arts institution dedicated to preserving and fostering jazz and jazz appreciation. Every fall, SFJAZZ harkens back to the golden age of jazz with the San Francisco Jazz Festival.
Although this year's lineup commenced before we launched Jet San Francisco, it hasn't ended yet. Only one more show remains, but it's a doozy. Don't miss the San Francisco Jazz Festival's grand finale on November 21st — a double-barreled blues bash starring Grammy-winning Delta bluesman Keb' Mo' and "King of Rock n' Soul" Solomon Burke.
You'd be hard pressed to find a more jaw dropping venue in the Bay Area than the landmarkParamount Theatre (get directions). This art deco palace in the heart of Oakland should prove a fitting backdrop for the blistering blues sure to come from Keb' Mo' and Solomon Burke, both latter-day blues masters at the height of their craft. If recent concerts are any indication, Keb' Mo' may discard his set list in favor of audience requests.
November 21, 2009 at 8 pm
The 27th annual San Francisco Jazz Festival ended much like it began: in grand style.
Opening night was an Oct. 20 show with Buena Vista Social Club star Omara Portuondo – a great concert. And closing night was a Nov. 8 gig with free-jazz pioneer Ornette Coleman – an even better concert.
(Yes, I know that those weren’t the “real” opening and closing nights – since there was a show earlier in October and still one to come, on Nov. 21 – but Omara and Ornette were the gigs the bookended the majority of events. So, let’s call them the “unofficial” opening and closing nights.)
Coleman’s gig was, as per usual, mind-blowing. Nobody else in the jazz game is like this saxophonist, who also performs on violin and trumpet. Every time I see him in concert, my concept of what exactly constitutes music broadens by leaps and bounds. Kudos to SFJAZZ for continually presenting Coleman – and I can’t wait for the organization to bring him back to town.
Here’s a set list from Coleman’s show at Davies Symphony Hall in S.F.:
Following the Sound
Sleep Talking
Blues Connotation
9-11
The Sphinx
Taking the Cure
Peace
Out of Order
Bach
City Living
Turn Around
Dancing in Your Head
Song World
Song X
Lonely Woman
Jordan
Ornette Coleman, a slow, frail-looking figure at age 79, shuffled onto the Davies Symphony Hall stage last night. Slowly making his way to the bandstand, he bowed, remarked that it was good to be able to get to know the audience, and picked up his alto saxophone. He and his band began to play.
Suddenly, Ornette Coleman wasn’t 79 anymore. He was 24, or 34, or any particular age in between. His saxophone came to life with his unmistakable butcher-paper tone, a singular voice in jazz that is ageless. During the next five minutes, he picked up and played a flugelhorn, then a violin. His band rumbled forth until the line between improvisation and composition blurred, and the whole propulsion came to a quick, sharp stop.
It was, in a word, miraculous.
While many jazz legends age ungracefully and move into smooth-jazz territory, Coleman through thick and thin has continued to follow his own path, a journey that is at the heart of jazz itself. In recent years, this journey has brought him to the Pulitzer committee and, in one of the funniest television moments of the last few years, the Grammy Awards. He has also time and again returned to the SFJAZZ festival, who presented last night’s concert. But he hasn’t rested on his laurels, playing at Davies from a chartbook full of new compositions and old classics with a stellar band featuring son Denardo on drums, Anthony Falanga on upright bass and Al McDowell on five-string electric bass.
In a mostly adventurous, tight set, there were admittedly moments when the men on stage weren’t entirely together. “Blues Connotation,” the opening track from This Is Our Music, was the first sign that age might be catching up with Coleman—he layed out for the lightning-fast head, and when it came around again as the outro, he struggled to keep up.
But any minor diminishments were more than overshadowed by the stellar, unpredictable vision of Coleman’s music. MacDowell provided swirling counterpoint to Coleman’s playing, like a spider doing the Charleston, while Denardo, playing more rock beats than usual, maintained a strange sense of control. Falanga, an excellent bassist, brought the house down by bowing Bach’s Prelude to Cello Suite No. 1, more than capably handling the iconic theme arranged for jazz in a surprise twist.
Coleman himself, with his bizarre white saxophone, played remarkably. After a short, beautiful encore run-through of “Lonely Woman,” the applause was too great, and the band returned for “Song X.” Davies Symphony Hall resonated with Coleman’s bended notes, his falling glissandos, his jumping lines. It was clear that nowhere else in the entire world was music like this, full of humanity and love, being played at that same moment.
May Ornette Coleman live on, and may his music last a thousand years.