Jazz in Exile1Exile is a fucker. Louis Moholo (Blue Notes
Drummer)2
In this Chapter I will be investigating South African Jazz in
exile, by looking at the music of one of the most important South
African groups to emerge in the country; the Blue Notes and the
impact of their music on the improvised music in Britain and Europe
at large. I will partly look into how the experience of exile
affected their lives, and how this ultimately permeated their
music. All but one of the Blue Notes members died in exile without
realising the freedom that we now enjoy in South Africa, a sore
point in Moholos life the sole survivor in the group. I was by the
sea in South Africa recently, Moholo poignantly stated, and I heard
them You know the way the sea sings to you? It made me feel happy,
and sad, too, because all the guys, Dudu, Chris and Mongezi, and
Johnny Dyani and Harry Miller, all of them, never got the chance to
see the country freed(Fordham, 2003). Louis Moholo, nearly faced
death when he suffered a heart attack just before his 50th birth-
day (Eyles: 2002). In an interview with Richard Scott for the Wire
Magazine, Moholo sometimes reflected on his life as an exilic
musician in paradox and contradiction (also with guilt of being
alive), I sometime think that if music has been explained to me,
what it would do to me in my life, this heavy duty demand it takes,
I dont think I would have ever be [sic] interested, now that I know
what music can do to a person. I like music, but the life if I
could be born again and know that Im going to come to be in exile,
then no way, because exile is a fucker (quoted in Scott, 1991: 37)
In another interview with Steve Vickery of Coda magazine Moholo
poignantly echoed similar sentiments.
1
To be in exile is a motherfucker [sic]. (silence, Moholo stares
at the tape recorder) Heavy! Heavy! Manners! If I was to be born
again, I would never be in exile, never, ever. But now I am here,
in exile, and the brothers that I came with you know, like Dudu
Pukwana, hes dead, hes gone, passed on. Mongezi Feza, passed on.
Nick Moyoke [sic], passed on. Johnny Dyani, passed on. Chris
McGregor, passed on. The six, we were a six piece, now Im just
left, one piece (quoted in Titlestad, 2004: 141). The pain of
exile, of dislocation, far away removed from their roots, from
their country of birth, and from their friends and families, is
rather revealing. Moholo juxtaposes the exilic experience of
displacement and separation from the loved ones, with the loss of
his fellow Blue Notes musicians. This is represented in his silence
staring at the tape recorder, short of words, his experience of
exile, and his loss, is beyond linguistic expression. To grasp the
extent of exilic suffering in banishment and condemnation(p. 124),
can be traced only in terms of the loss of those with whom the
journey was undertaken a catalogue of an absent ensemble of
association that once maintained at least a sense of shared
estrangement (Titlestad, 2004: 142). The Blue Notes were the thing
for me, Moholo recently remarked in an interview with John Eyles,
expressing the profound role his fellow musicians had impacted on
his life; I'm still suffering from not being able to play with
those guys. Even if I was not playing with them, just because they
were around I would hear their music on the radio. If I heard
Johnny Dyani, that was going to be my food that would make me
survive musically for the next three months. It was spiritual
rejuvenation. I didn't have to go to SA to get spiritual
rejuvenation. Just by looking at Dudu, just seeing his eyes would
knock me out. And now those eyes are no more, they're gone. It is
not finished, but the inner driving force is handicapped. Sometimes
it seems unfair that people like that have to die (Eyles, 2002).
Maxine McGregors (the wife of Chris McGregor and one time manager
of the Blue Notes) account of the initial exilic experience of the
Blue Notes, (rather) suggests there were telling indications
signalling the detriment exile will inflict on their lives.
According to Trinh T. Minh-ha, the experience of exile is never
simply binary
2
[but is a] question of fitting in a no-fit-in category (quoted
in McKay: forthcoming). The untimely demise of almost all Blue
Notes musicians in exile, suggest they never really came to grips
with their dislocation and estrangement in a foreign land, numerous
stories have been told of exilic South Africans` erratic and
destructive behaviour and alcoholism.3 Going back to Maxines
account of their initial arrival in France, The uncertainty and
also the culture shock began to take their toll: [with Mongezi
disturbing peace in the hotel and waking up everybody]. The next
morning we, and indeed the whole hotel, were awakened at five a.m.
by a strange caterwauling from the pavement in front: Johnny had
the blues and was giving voice to his homesickness [t]here was an
added complication in the form of Nikele, who though he did not
admit to anyone, he had begun to feel seriously unwell; he was to
die of a brain tumour within the year, but all we knew at the time
was that he was unhappy and ill-at-ease and wanted to return home
to South Africa. Doubtless his illness played a large part in his
depression, but being older than the other musicians by at least
ten years, he had also found it the most difficult to adapt. In
South Africa he had a place in his cultural environment, such as it
was he knew who he was and where he was and how things functioned.
In Europe he was a fish out of water, a nobody, and he found it
very hard to understand the mores of strange French and Swiss who
seemed totally devoid of strong family bonds and tolerance, a
characteristic of many African peoples that seemed completely
lacking among the competitive, materialism oriented Europeans
(McGregor, 1995: 77 & 79). This shows how earlier on their
arrival in exile these musicians struggled to shake off the feeling
of homesickness and yearning to come back home, for exilic
musicians the strain of being torn from the land of birth and the
widespread emotional catastrophe of exile is perhaps reflected in
Moholos expression exile is a fucker. His juxtaposition of the
exilic displacement and separation from the loved ones, with the
loss of his fellow Blue Notes musicians, profoundly marks the
sorrow of South African musicians who were to die in exile
(Titlestad, 2004: 141,143 & 150). The extent to which all the
Blue Notes dealt with exile is varied. For Nikele it was through
irrational behaviour, attempting to sabotage and creating havoc in
the band, so that
3
the group would split up and he also indulged in excessive
consumption of alcohol (McGregor, 1995: 80). Nikeles exilic
experience of dislocation and uprooted-ness fits into Trinh T.
Minh-has statement of fitting in a no-fit-in category. Back home
Moyake had a place in his cultural environment, he knew and
understood the ways of his people and had over the years accustomed
to these, but In Europe as suggested in McGregor he was a fish out
of water, a nobody something he could not contend with. According
to Titlestad, over the years the remaining Blue Notes were to
suffer, what [might be considered] variation on the trauma of Nik
Moyake (Titlestad, 2004: 143). 1975 marked a gloom year for the
exiled community of South Africans with the passing of one of its
own. At the tender age of 30 years Mongezi Feza was the first of
the Blue Notes to die in exile, from a combination of nervous
disorder and untreated pneumonia; his friends and colleagues
believed that his complaints were not taken seriously enough at the
London hospital (Martinelli, 2005). Feza was admitted at a London
hospital after he collapsed, he suffered frequent periods of
instability and had spent some time in mental hospitals and was
given Largarctyl a drug whose side effect is severe sensitivity to
heat and light, he lay in a bare room all night before his body was
noticed (Ansell, 2004: 240; & McGregor, 1995: 165).Ten years
later in 1986, Dyani who was 39 years, collapsed on stage and later
died at a Berlin hospital, from what Rasmussen (2003: 24), refers
to as the effects of many years of drinking and drug abuse. The
circumstances surrounding Dyanis death are some-what similar to
Feza, in that there was a combination of carelessness and utter
disregard for the lives of seemingly non Europeans and therefore
foreigners (or worse blacks) from the medical personnel (thus
bordering on bigotry). According to Johnny Dyanis son (Thomas), it
took a long time for the paramedics to arrive with the ambulance,
because they knew it was a foreigner, and it was like it
wouldnt
4
have made a difference, but I just remember feeling really
victimized at the time, because even when they finally got there,
the attitude of the paramedics was like, Oh, a drunk jazz musician,
black guy you know, instead of just kicking on with the business, a
person in need, get him out of here, get him to the hospital it was
actually a doctor in the building, there was a doctor in the
building I remember him ditching them, telling them to get the shit
together, stop walking around and get him out of here. And they did
(quoted in Rasmussen, 2003: 104). Perhaps this exemplifies an added
complication in the lives of exiles in Europe, over and above the
pain of dislocation they also had to negotiate race related issues.
Europe, as South African exiles soon discovered, was not devoid of
racism. For instance, South African Bassist Ernest Motlhe arrived
in London in 1972 and remembers it was still those keep Britain
white days. I could write a book about finding a place to stay,
walking from place to place. One time I ended up sleeping in my car
for a while. They were very careful not say [youre black], [sic]
but you could feel that this guy oh yeah! (quoted in Ansell, 2004:
239). Mothle was to have a close relation with Chris McGregor,
collaborating with the erstwhile Blue Note pianist in all of his
formations (of duos, trios, quintets and so forth) including the
last two reincarnations of the Brotherhood of Breath until
McGregors death in 1990 (McGregor, 1995: 185). There are numerous
stories similar to the one above that have been told by South
Africans in exile, which made their stay in Europe uneasy. This
also compounded their woes, and inadvertently led to depression and
alcoholism, Ansell suggest that even Chris McGregor, who felt the
pain of racism only second hand, moved around a lot, finally
relocating to France (Ansell, 2004: 240). The exile, in what
Titlestad (141), refers to as the potential cost of nomadic
heurism, is undomesticated; he moves from one location to the
other. It is as if he is afraid of familiarity, of setting roots or
being content in his exilic milieu, lest he forgets where he comes
from, by all accounts Pukwana and Dyani were prone to depression
and
5
ennui for similar reasons, and Moholo has remained plagued by a
sense of alienation, the knowledge that home is definitely
elsewhere (Titlestad, 2004: 144). McGregor seemingly acted out his
frustrations of life in exile by moving around a lot. In 1990 both
Dudu Pukwana and Chris McGregor were to die in exile within weeks
of each other (five weeks apart to be exact), marking another sad
chapter in the lives of South African musicians in exile. The Blue
Notes in their quest for collective as well as individual self
expression in their home country without the interference of the
state paid the ultimate price of dislocation and alienation from
loved ones; According to Gilroy, [T]here are large questions raised
about the direction and character of black culture and art if we
take the powerful effects of even temporary experiences of exile,
relocation, and displacement into account [] Whether their
experience of exile is enforced or chosen, temporary or permanent,
these intellectuals and activists, writers, speakers, poets and
artists repeatedly articulate a desire to escape the restrictive
bonds of ethnicity, national identification, and sometimes even
race itself (Gilroy, 1993: 18 &19). Jazz music has always
transcended all ethnic, racial, religious and geographical
boundaries, and is not attuned to any form of bigotry. This is
nowhere better illustrated than in South Africa, where jazz music
became an instrument of hope that united South Africans across the
racial divide. Musicians were frequently at odds with the state
laws, many a time crossing racial and cultural barrier for the sake
of their music. This included, for McGregor, (a white musician)
pretending to be coloured if I thought it would help my music and
the countrys jazz (McGregor, 1995: 1). According to McKay,
regardless of the extent to which they were as individuals
ideologically articulate or politically active, by virtue of the
music they played, their preferred cultural expression alone, South
African jazz musicians were positioned politically, in opposition
to the state [and jazz became their weapon of choice] (McKay,
2004).
6
In chapter two I have shown how during the 1920s, 1940s and
1960s South African jazz groups modelling themselves on U.S.
prototypes of swing and bebop bands, mushroomed all over the
country, and how they fused and localized the two American styles
of jazz with their own indigenous musics. Jazz, by its nature, is
easily adaptable to local contexts; throughout its developmental
history in the U.S. (and elsewhere in the jazz diaspora) it has
been fused with other musics. For instance, first, the fusion of
jazz with folk and traditional music from Latin America and the
Caribbean is characterised in Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespies
collaboration with Cuban percussionist Luciano "Chano" Pozo
Gonzalez.4 Chano played a pivotal role in the founding of
Latin-jazz which was essentially a mixture of bebop and Cuban folk
music. Second, Duke Ellington also experimented with Latin sounds,
one of the most popular Latin tunes in Dukes repertoire was Juan
Tizol`s composition called Caravan (which is considered the first
Latin Jazz tune).5 Third, the collaboration of American saxophonist
Stan Getz with Brazilian guitarists Joao Gilberto is another
example of how jazz successfully merged with other musics, this
time with Brazilian sounds.6 I have also shown that jazz and its
antecedent (country or folk blues) are characteristically hybrid as
they also borrowed from other musics. Similarly, South African jazz
has borrowed from other musics, including Latin music as I will
indicate; for example, the mixture of West African highlife and
kwela rhythms in Tunjis Song (a McGregor composition), or the
recent collaboration of Molelekwa and Brazilian musicians in Sogra.
These are among many examples of South African sounds blending with
other musics in a jazz idiom.7 McKay asserts if jazz is a universal
language therefore [its language] is subject to localising as well
as globalising imperatives, due in strong measure to its definitive
production-oriented identity: jazz is not merely a consumed music,
but one played, made, produced in each locale
7
(McKay: forthcoming)8. This is true of South African jazz, a
dialect within the global language of jazz, or as Gwangwa puts it,
ours is jazz with an accent. 9 However, if we accept the romantic
illusion that music is a universal language, Titlestad delineates,
the exiled musician would seem to be in a relatively enviable
position he should be able to sound out new a new context, in lieu
of a shared language or culture, by projecting his identity in a
way foreign audiences can understand and appreciate (Titlestad,
2004: 127). South Africans were not readily accepted in Europe,
[W]hile it is widely accepted that the Blue Notes acted as a
cataclyst [sic] in forcing an awareness of musical modernity in
British jazz circles, their presence there was not always welcome.
such freewheeling Africans created resentment when they entered the
grey London picture. It was something with which they would live
for the rest of their lives (Wilmer, 2003: 85). According to
Ansell, even Some British musicians and critics ignored them; some
were baffled by their diverse and unfamiliar sound (Ansell, 2004:
239). Part of the problem was that the Blue Notes were perceived by
the British Musicians Union as posing a threat to local musician
because they were taking their much needed income and jobs. Unable
to conceal his dismay McGregor exclaimed, I suppose we tended to
overestimate the jazz scene [in Britain] From South Africa it
looked pretty good and of course the liberal attitudes were an
attraction so that we could go on playing together. We just
naturally assumed that there would be the same kind of
open-mindedness to music here that there is to colour (McGregor,
1995: 96; & McKay: unpublished). Yet According to Joe Boyd,
(their erstwhile manger) to a certain extent colour was to be a
factor right from their initial arrival in Britain after the
Antibes Festival and their subsequent performance at Ronnie Scotts.
When that happened, Boyd explains, [T]hey were welcomed because
they were exotic and interesting and they were going home. And when
they didnt go home they became a threat. I felt there
8
was a certain amount of racism involved. Visiting black
musicians are O.K. because theyre going to go home, but when stay
and nick your girlfriends, thats a different thing (quoted in
McGregor, 1995: 96). According to McKay, Displaying unconfident
insularity, some British jazzers made it clear that the Blue Notess
music would indeed not matter to them. Maggie Nicols, in the 1960s
a young singer on the fringes of the modern scene, reluctantly
recalls criticism as well as a certain pressure on her to conform:
To be honest there was some resistance from the London scene
towards what they were doing, because the Blue Notes werent playing
straight ahead be-bop and there was some snobbery about their
technique. I loved them, but I was very young then, and maybe
rather held my enthusiasm back because of the criticisms some of
the be-boppers were making (McKay, forthcoming). Apart from the
abovementioned obstacles London appeared to be a viable option for
the Blue Notes at the time, there was a strong anti apartheid
movement and a number of South Africa expatriates, including exiles
from other African states. With their refugee status the Blue Notes
were able to acquire a work permit and therefore able to access
government grants, such as the Government social security grants
paid to local musicians without employment. Dudu Pukwana was also
the recipient of the Arts Council grant, for the soundtrack of The
Africans (a television series written by Ali Mazrui), the first
ever non British musician. Other sources came from institutions
like the Africa Centre where Maxine McGregor was employed (Ansell,
2004: 241). Notwithstanding resistance from certain quarters of the
British communitys arts practitioners, the Blue Notes forged ahead
with their music and soon attracted young British and European
musicians who were engrossed to their sounds.
The Blue Notes as a magnet to European musicians When the Blue
Notes hit London in the mid-60s, they were playing a loose,
intuitive mixture of home-brewed hard bop, township jive and New
York freejazz The music was experimental, innovative and
unpredictable - but it never abandoned songs or lost the groove. A
living volcano - and right
9
inside, such pretty tunes. The band was a magnet for many young
British musicians of the 60s and early 70s (Fordham, 2003). The `
apparent triumph in exile of South African jazz as this will became
increasingly evident, can be credited, firstly, to its uniqueness,
emerging in the British music scene at a time when local musicians
were attempting to forge new ways of musical expression; secondly,
the Blue Notes` boldness in experimenting with new sounds, and
their numerous collaborations with British and European musicians
without abandoning the South African feel (or compromising the
South African sound). The Blue Notes were oblivious to the interest
their sound was generating, what others perceived as its uniqueness
to them it was something they were used to; because we had grown up
surrounded by South African musics kwela, mbaqanga, marabiwhich
were influenced, to a greater or lesser extent, by various musical
traditions that existed in the [South African] environment
(including tribal music, Malaysian music, Christian and Moslem
choirs, North American jazz, even South American carnival music
brought to the Cape by sailors)[]we had no way of knowing just how
different it seemed to what people were used to in Europe
(McGregor, 1995: 96; emphasis added). The South African music of
the Blue Notes significantly impacted on the European free jazz
scene at the time when European musician were beginning to explore
with improvised music or free jazz, and moving away from
conventional jazz. Robert Wyatt, a British musician, first
encountered the music of the Blue Notes in their dbut performance
at Ronnie Scotts in 1965, He loved Mongezi Feza's trumpet, like a
bubbling kettle, and Feza featured on Wyatt's solo albums regularly
through the early 70s. Somehow, those South Africans had discovered
by the mid-60s how to combine song and dance with all the new ideas
that were coming through free-jazz at the time It was like a kind
of free dance. I hadn't believed that was possible before. They
filled a vacuum of meaning in music for me after [John] Coltrane
died in 1967. They had that accessible soulfulness [sic] you
associate with black popular music, but with the edge of something
new being made. The last American I had
10
heard doing that was Charles Mingus, so I was overwhelmed with
gratitude that they had come along. The other thing that got to me
was that music was clearly not a side issue for them - they clung
to it for survival (ibid.). Young British musicians like Robert
Wyatt, Keith Tippet, Evan Parker, and so forth forged a
relationship with the Blue Notes musicians resulting in a
cross-fertilisation and musical confluence in the in the British
scene; we played with everybody, says Tipett, but the Blue
Notes-sometimes more than the British musicians-enfolded us and
encouraged us, socially too. They were the people we hung out with
(quoted in Ansell, 2004: 240). As individuals the Blue Notes also
led their own outfits and often collaborated with European and
American musicians as well. This ensured their standing in music
circles and positioned them towards being at the cutting edge of
the free jazz movement. For the purposes of this study I have
chosen to focus on the Blue Notes as a collective. In my previous
chapter (two) I have drawn parallels between jazz as a practice in
South Africa and jazz as played elsewhere, and I have also shown
that the evolution of jazz in South Africa was in one part a
process of social negotiation, given the socio-political conditions
in the country. Similarly diasporic jazz, delineate Bruce Johnson;
[Involves a process of] negotiation between local cultural
practices and global cultural processes, between culture and mass
mediations. In such negotiations, diaspora is the condition of the
musics existence and character. Jazz was not invented and then
exported. It was invented in the process of being disseminated. As
both idea and practise, jazz came into being through negotiation
with vehicles of its dissemination, and with conditions it
encountered in any given location. The complexities of diasporic
reinvention are not simply the outcome of which particular versions
of jazz were exported. The conditions that these exports
encountered reconfigured the music and its meaning even further
(Johnson, 2002: 39). For exilic South African musicians jazz was
synonymous with the emancipation of South Africa or Azania10, thus,
free jazz was employed as an expression against inequality and
unjust apartheid laws and also a symbol freedom in their
homeland.
11
Free jazz as a metaphor for freedom in South Africa
[t]he exiled musician is commonly reduced to a metonym of a
political context, his music to the endless restatement of the
themes of his alienation, nostalgia, or hope for liberation.
Precisely because it is separated from its context the music is
often taken to represent that context in its entirety (Titlestad,
2004:127; emphasis in the original). This involves musicians having
to be the voice of the oppressed masses in their native land.
Throughout their exiled life, in their recordings and/or
performances, South African musicians found themselves having to
communicate to the world about the plight of their follow country
men; and were thus poised to be in opposition with the state, a
symbol of the common struggle of South Africans, a metonym of a
political context, of courage, of hope and impudence and unwavering
belief that i Afrika izobuya (South Africa Shall be free).
According to Edward Said, Exile means that you are always going to
be marginal, and that what you as an intellectual has to be made up
because you cannot follow a prescribed path. If you can experience
that fate not as a deprivation and something to be bewailed, but as
a sort of freedom, a process of discovery in which you do things
according to your own pattern, as various interests seize your
attention, and as the particular goal you set yourself dictates:
that is a unique pleasure [] to be as marginal and as
undomesticated as someone who is in real exile is for an
intellectual to be unusually responsive to the traveller rather
than the potentate, to the provisional and risky rather than
habitual, to innovation and experiment rather than authoritarian
status quo. The exilic intellectual does not respond to the logic
of the conventional but to the audacity of the daring, and to
representing change, to moving on, not standing still (quoted in
Titlestad, 2004: 139). For exiled musicians free jazz was, seen as
a metonym for freedom in South Africa. Free jazz, in Moholos own
words is about challenging the status quo, breaking boundaries and
restrictions something which he and his fellow Blue Notes musicians
had to contend with in South Africa (Eyles, 2002). Elsewhere Moholo
would say me, Dudu, Mongezi, Johnny Dyani, Nick Moyake, [and] Chris
[w]e
12
rebelled against the apartheid regime that whites and blacks
couldn't play together. We stood up. (ibid.). The experience of
exile, for Moholo and his fellow musicians, presented a personal as
well as a musical freedom, the two were representational of the
other; as a result their involvement with free jazz can be
understood symbolically (and literally) as espousing their desire
for political emancipation in their country. Free jazz, Moholo
asserts; [I]t made sense to me. Freedom made sense to me. I was
looking for it all the time anyway. Yes. I thought why was I [sic]
chained until then. It was in me before then but I didn't recognise
it until I came overseas. I could feel the freedom straight away.
It was fantastic, exciting to break away from the chains (ibid.).
The experience of oppression under apartheid made exiled musicians
to be determined to break away from the norm and that through free
jazz they could break the boundaries of conventional jazz. For
Moholo, playing free jazz gave him a sense of freedom he first
experienced whilst he was in exile. Everything he did musically was
a response to being liberated from the oppressive confines and
choked Calvinism of apartheid (Titlestad, 2004: 140). Exile meant
he could finally break away from the chains of oppression, and free
jazz gave him space to express (and maintain) his acquired
independence.11 Interviewed in the Wire Magazine, Moholo hinted on
the significance of freedom in exile ( and away from apartheid),
When I was here I started hearing some other vibes. I was away from
South Africa and away from the chains. I just wanted to be free,
totally free, even in music. Free to shake away all the slavery,
anything to do with slavery, being boxed in to placesone, two,
three, fourand being told you must come in after four. I was just a
rebel, completely a rebel. Free music is it man, its so beautiful.
The word free makes sense to me. I know thats what I want; freedom,
let my people go. Let my people go! And thats interlinking with
politics, they embrace each other. (quoted in McKay: forthcoming;
emphasis in the original).12
13
Just like the exile intellectual, in Said above, Moholo chooses
his own musical path relevant to his exilic condition, despite his
dislocation and alienation. He sees the fate of exile not as a
deprivation and something to be bewailed, but as a sort of freedom,
a process of discovery in which [he] does things according to [his]
own pattern. He does not want to be confined in South Africa life
was prescribed for him, he was unable to lead his life according to
his own will, he was in chains. He was told where he should live,
which part of his native land did not belong to him. He could not
associate freely with his fellow citizens. He wants to be
liberated, even to be told that you have to come on four musically
is problematic for Moholo. Just like the exilic intellectual as
suggested in Said, Moholo (refrains from responding to the logic of
the conventional and has the audacity of the daring, of
representing change, moving on, and not standing still). Free jazz;
as Thebe Lepere puts it, is honest. It either happens or it falls
flat on its face (Ansell, 2004: 243). Its either you are free or
not, for Moholo freedom makes sense because free jazz is also a
weapon to fight against apartheid, and [t]his music, Moholo
exclaims, saw to it that the [apartheid] Berlin Wall fell. We
liberated our country partly through this music. Everybody gave a
hand - Coltrane, Cecil Taylor, Keith Tipett, Elton Dean, John
Stevens, Johnny Dyani, Mongs [Feza]. We broke the barriers; down
fell the Berlin Wall. (Eyles, 2002).
The Blue Notes and apartheid: where it all started
Jazz in the 1950s had increasingly become relevant to the local
context in South Africa, the music spoke about factors that
affected people where words [because of linguistic limitation] were
insufficient[and] had developed a strong
14
local following amongst all urbanized racial groups (Brown,
2004: 72). One of the bands to emerge from that epoch was the Blue
Notes; this group would later prove to be one of the most important
South African jazz groups outside the country to put South African
music on the map for European audiences. According to McKay, The
Blue Notes` their African reconstruction of American music was a
timely project, which coincided with and contributed to one of the
periodic Africanisations of American jazz, the political and
spiritual Africanisation of the music in the 1960s. [John] Coltrane
had been influential in creating a climate of Afro-centrism among
American jazz musicians that was in place when the diaspora of
South African musicians began in the early 1960s (McKay:
forthcoming; emphasis in the original). What made the Blue note
stood out other than their unique jazz style was their
innovativeness; they constantly took their music to new heights
just like experimental musicians like Coltrane did in the States.
Bassist Charlie Haden once remarked that as long as there are
musicians who have a passion for spontaneity, for creating
something that has never been before, the art form of jazz will
flourish (Brown, 2004: 73). South African exilic musicians,
particularly those from the Blue Notes, certainly took free jazz or
the improvised music in Europe to new heights. Central to the
formation of the Blue Notes was pianist Chris McGregors
experimentation, working and jamming with various jazz bands and
musicians under different contexts, which later culminated into
what was to become the Blue Notes. Initially, the band comprised of
Chris McGregor (piano), Dudu Phukwane (alto), Nikele Moyake
(tenor), Mongezi Velelo and later Sammy Maritz (on bass) and Early
Mabuza (drums), the name Blue Notes was given to the band as not to
betray its mixed identity or multi-racial composition from the
apartheid government agencies whilst putting across to the public
that it was a jazz band (McGregor, 1995: 25). For a while the band
was based in Johannesburg before embarking on a national tour,
fundraising for plane tickets towards an overseas appearance at the
Antibes festival in France,
15
which promised to open doors towards an international career for
the group. By this time the group had new additions; first, Mongezi
Feza (trumpet) joined the band in 1962 when Chris, Nick and Dudu
saw him during the annual jazz festival and invited him to join the
band - coincidentally Mongezi Feza was unwilling to return to
Eastern Cape after the festival and wanted to explore the music
scene in Johannesburg. Second, Louis Moholo (drums) replaced Early
Mabuza in September 1963, when the latter failed to appear for a
concert where the Blue Notes were scheduled to play with Chris
McGregors 17 piece big band. As luck would have it, Moholo, who
arrived in Johannesburg to play at the annual Cold Castle Festival
stayed around after the festival and was present during the big
bands rehearsals had a good idea of their tunes although he had
never practised them with the band. He got down to rehearsing and
with remarkable rapidity in the short time available picked up most
of what he needed for the performance (ibid.: 35). Third, Johnny
Dyani (bass) completed the new line up when he replaced Sammy
Maritz who [turned out to be] home-sick and disappeared during the
Downbeat club interlude [where the band was engaged for a while]
(ibid.: 47). In 1963 Dyani had a brief stint with the Blue Notes
whilst in Johannesburg, teaming up with the group and jamming with
them at Dorkay house and later he performed with them at the 1963
annual Cold Castle Festival in Orlando Stadium. Dyani went to
Johannesburg for the first time when Back of your Backyard (a band
from Johannesburg) arrived for a series of performances in East
London, during one of the bands performances Dyani joined them on
stage and subsequently left with the band upon its departure back
to Johannesburg.13 Given the worsening political state of affairs
in South Africa, especially after the Sharpville massacre, the
apartheid governments` clamping down on all political activism
culminated in the banning of the African National Congress, the Pan
African
16
Congress, the South African Communist Party and all labour
movements in the country. South Africa was becoming a dangerous
place to live in, basic human rights were a luxury denied to the
black majority but only reserved for a white minority (excluding
whites who sacrificed their privileged status that came with being
white in South Africa, and aligned themselves with their
dispossessed fellow blacks). After all, according to the apartheid
government black people were not citizens of South Africa and thus
needed special permission to be in the Republic; they were
supposedly citizens of the Bantustans where their ancestors came
from. Interaction or mixing among the races was illegal in South
Africa, and this presented a problem for racially mixed bands like
the Blue Notes as they were under constant threat of being arrested
or detained without trial. Jazz music was perceived by the
apartheid regime as a threat to [its] racially based political
order, threatening as it did the attempts at racial separation
(jazz musicians tended to mix in accordance with musical
competence, and not skin colour) (Brown, 2004: 72). McGregors
involvement with black musicians (as a white South African) was
based on their competence as they were good musicians with a
passion for jazz, they approached their instruments with dexterity
and were dedicated in what they were doing, simply put they were
the best musicians(cited in McGregor, 1995: 7).14 To fellow black
musicians who lived and worked with him Chris wasnt white - he was
just a musician (Ansell, 2004: 238239). Initially McGregor was
oblivious to the controversy and contradictions of being a white
player in a black band (ibid.). Chiefly because throughout his
childhood in the Transkei, Chris was surrounded by Xhosa folk
traditions and spoke the language he learned from interacting with
kids attending his fathers mission school (McGregor, 1995: 2).
Chris one time received a death threat from an anonymous telephone
call because of his involvement with black musicians, the band
17
had to work hard at concealing its multi-racialness as a result
they found themselves with less and less performance opportunities
as all cultural happenings were closely surveyed [by the
government] (ibid.: 45). Musicians often found themselves under
compromising and ignominious situations; for example, Moholo
sometimes had to make himself invisible, playing behind a screen if
he was working with white players. On one occasion, McGregor, who
was white, blacked up with boot polish to have a drink with Moholo
in the townships without attracting the police (Fordham: 2003).15
There were situations where the threat of arrest was real during
performances, musicians would realise that at the rear slightly
behind the audience, and scores of state police would be waiting to
pounce on them. Somehow they always managed to escape arrest amidst
the commotion after the end of these performances. The reason the
police wouldnt dare arrest them in the middle of the show was that
with several hundreds of enthusiastic spectators watching the show,
their imminent arrest by the security branch would have culminated
in a riot something the police were not prepared to deal with
(McGregor, 1995: 45). The apartheid governments laws were becoming
desperate, dangerous, as well as pathological, as I will
demonstrate. For a while the apartheid government passed a law that
prohibited the gathering of not more than ten black people and
later rescinded the law because it was not forcible, as people were
not perturbed by this and did not change their habits to suit any
apartheid laws and continued with their lives any way. (Bergman,
1985: 115). The 1960s saw the mass departure of many musicians to
overseas countries; groups like the Jazz Epistles fell apart with
the implementation of the harsh [apartheid] laws (ibid.). Many
musicians became disillusioned and thus opted to pack away their
instruments in order to work as factory workers than to be faced
with a bleak and uncertain future. Musicians in the country could
no longer sustain
18
themselves and their families under apartheid (see Masekela,
2004: 101). What made matters worse for black musicians was that
musical events in the townships such as festivals became rapidly
violent for a number of reasons, which meant that musicians could
not work in white areas nor in the township. David Coplan dilates
the corollary results of apartheid on the arts in South Africa; The
ultimate problem, of course, is apartheid, which makes an
autonomous, self-supporting, culturally relevant black music world
impossible and creates social conditions in which frustration and
violence in black urban communities cannot be excluded from
performance occasions (Coplan, 1985: 192). In 1964 the Blue Notes
fled the from the dying jazz scene in South Africa, following in
the footsteps of Miriam Makeba, Abdullah Ibrahim, Hugh Masekela,
the Manhattan Brothers and many more including musicians, dancers
and actors who went to London with the cast of King Kong the
musical. Caiphus Semenya and Letta Mbulu soon followed with another
musical called Sponono. The mass exodus of musicians to overseas
countries helped in popularising South African music abroad but
left a gap in the country `s jazz scene that existed for almost
twenty years. For a while the apartheid system appeared to have
succeeded in nipping the development of local music in the bud and
pushing its best players into exile abroad (Collins, 1992: 194).
Blue Notes drummer Louis Moholo once remarked; I wonder if the band
[The Blue Notes] would have lasted if it had remained in [South
Africa]. The chances are that it wouldnt have survived because of
apartheid and the state of emergencya lot of riots, quartet and
quintets disbanded because of this So if we had stayed in SA, I
think we would have been fucked up. The Boers would have succeeded
in breaking us up. Fortunately, we had an appointment at the
Juan-Les-Pins jazz festival that saved our beef. We never went
back. For a good ten years we didn't go back. First, Dudu and Chris
went for a short spell. I followed. Mongezi never did and poor
Johnny never did as well. I wonder if we would have lasted because
the Boers would have caught up with us. Lucky that we split when we
did (quoted in Eyles, 2002). Chances are the Blue Notes like many
bands would not have survived (neither) as a mixed group in the
country (nor) as a jazz band. In line with its doctrine of
separate
19
development the apartheid government sought to do away with all
cultural practices (jazz included) that evoked a sense of oneness
among South Africans in the country. The government wanted to
replace these, as it did, with less threatening musics through the
implementation of tribal broadcast stations that were ethnically
and racially based and geared towards promoting ethnic musics.
However this unintentionally helped to stimulate the countrys
diverse ethnic musics as represented by the so called Radio Bantu
broadcasting services,16 on the other hand Radio Bantu created
another division among various ethnic groups.17 The proliferation
of ethnic based (or regional) musics such as umsakazo, sax jive,
and so forth, was frowned upon by politically conscious blacks who
saw the music as serving the apartheid regimes attempt to create a
non- threatening black culture designed to separate blacks along
ethnic differences, whilst professing to promulgate individual
ethnic cultures (Bergman, 1985: 109 &110). Musicians as
performers, as artists and as social commentators were not allowed
to be critical of the government or to comment about the status
quo. Hence, regional or ethnic radio stations under the state
[controlled] Radio Bantu vigorously censored any music referring to
the reality of urban African experience, or social and political
issues [Radio Bantu was also] designed to reinforce the apartheid
homeland policy and to inculcate the governments version of the
beauties of rural life and the evil of cities among Africans
(Coplan, 1985: 194). The promotion of tribal music by the state-run
Radio Bantu was seen as intended to lull the black masses with less
threatening musics, whilst expurgating conscious musics. For
instance, isicathamiyas roots in the Zulu speaking working class,
Ballantine explains, means that it is usually political and that
Black Mambazo is exceptional in this regard; for this reason, he
argues, they were championed by the
20
South African Broadcasting Cor-poration [sic]because their
lyrics tend not to criticize the social order (quoted in
Taylor,1997: 78). For some black people, tribal music was not
modern and so did not fit the image of an urban working class
African. To them this music was discordant and sought to take them
backwards. American music, on the other hand, was recognised as a
symbol of their struggle and resistance, a symbol of what blacks
had achieved in the modern world. Alongside with Radio Bantu
Services the governments sought to create the so called independent
homelands for Africans, One of the priorities of the Apartheid
government was to restrict black Africans even further, by creating
Black homelands, later became known as separate development. As a
result of mass evictions from white farms and land hunger in black
reserves, black Africans caused huge problems for the apartheid
government, by occupying private or vacant land without permission.
The Apartheid government quickly stepped in with a law preventing
"illegal squatting". This law was to prevent black Africans from
occupying private or public land without the permission of the
authorities. Its effect was to force tens of thousands of black
Africans out of urban areas. Farm workers coming from rural areas
had to be granted permission by the local authorities to work on
white farms. The above laws led to the elimination of blacks owning
land in white farming areas. This system meant that all black
Africans would in future legislation, be categorized according to
their various tribal antecedents and forced to accept citizenship
of the appropriate designated "homelands", where they can exercise
political rights (Rebirth Africa: 2005). This made blacks even more
suspicious of the government and anything or anyone that was seen
as collaborating and/or perpetuating the apartheid regimes plan of
turning blacks against each other. According to McKay, one townsman
exclaimed, Tribal music! Tribal history! Chiefs! We dont care about
chiefs! Give us jazz and film stars, man! We want Duke Ellington,
Satchmo and hot dames! Yes, brother, anything American. You can cut
out all this junk about kraals and folk tales and Basutos [sic] in
basketsforget it! Youre just trying to keep us backward, thats
what! (quoted in McKay: forthcoming).18 The problem regarding the
recognition of tribal music by politically conscious blacks, as I
will demonstrate, is not because they perceived indigenous musics
to be inferior vis-a-vis any form of western music (or even
American jazz for that matter), it was
21
rather a reaction against a system that they thought planned to
divide and rule blacks by any means necessary (including using
African cultural systems against them). For instance, in the
so-called independent homelands, traditional leaders were appointed
by apartheid as token leaders to run the homelands; Tribal leaders,
chiefs and kings who were in opposition to the state were stripped
of their chieftaincy and their legitimate powers and rights to
reign over their subjects and were replaced with government
appointed chiefs. Hence there were those among blacks who
completely undermined anything that was vaguely African or
representative of the above, like tribal music, and preferred black
American music or western music. Conversely, others embraced
traditional African music on the bases that being black and proud
implies celebrating and acknowledging that which makes them
African, therefore looking at their indigenous music and/ or
cultural practices with disdain amounts to self-hate. With the new
urban class came two new approaches to music, Anderson explains, On
the one hand the attitude is: Look were black and proud. We
identify with the black American struggle. We identify with
American style of music, like motown, funk, and disco because they
were started by blacks. Were not going to listen to any music that
doesnt have the international sound because its backward, right?
... retrogressive. The other strain of black consciousness might
declare that ethnic is where its at, because its the original, the
untainted pure black music of South Africa. Therefore its the music
that must be supported, and if its origin is tribal then thats just
fine, because that is our heritage (Andersson, 1981: 154, emphasis
in the original). During the early 70s there was the rise of black
consciousness in South Africa, aiming at making blacks to identify
with their roots, their heritage and Africaness, at the same time
rejecting tribalism as promoted by state institutions like Radio
Bantu that sought to divide Africans along tribal heritage through
tribal or regional music. exiled groups like Ojoyo, Zila, Jabula,
and so forth, were constantly feeding from the diverse South
African musics even musicians such as Hugh Masekela were gaining
wider
22
acceptance overseas because internationally there was a wider
acceptance of African musics.
Jazz with an Accent: The impact of South African jazz in Europe
You tell yourself that you are playing jazz. When you are at home
yes you are playing jazz. But just like speaking, you get to
America [or Europe] and find that there are some differences. Its
like jazz with an accent. So ours is a South African accent on jazz
(Gwangwa cited in Bernstein, 1994: 339). For the purpose of this
chapter I will examine an article written by Kennard to ascertain
the extent and nature of the Blue Notes` contribution to jazz in
Europe. Why Kennard? Over the past months I have read quite a
number of articles and reviews written about the Blue Notes. Most
of them are the same and are not substantial, thus far I find
Kennards article to be above the rest. What is fascinating for me
as well is that this is the first article on the Blue Notes that
was published in Britain; incidentally, it is a review of their
debut performance in Britain which took place in 1965 at Ronnie
Scotts. The impact of South African music in Europe was without a
doubt as a result of its uniqueness. This music came to Europe via
the Blue Notes at time when jazz on the continent was largely seen
as the realm of American musicians; Charlie Parker, John Coltrane,
Miles Davies, Dizzy Gillespie and many more were trendsetters in
the genre. It was therefore logical for local European jazzmen to
approach jazz in the same manner as U.S. musicians did. South
African jazz players like Masekela, Ibrahim, Mankunku, including
all the Blue Notes` members (also) went through some of the
toughest and fastest repertoire of jazz standards during their
formative years. At the time of Blue Notes arrival in Europe there
was a number of U.S. expatriate musicians who were living on the
continent. Within a week of the Blue Notes` arrival
23
in France they managed to meet the likes of Bud Powell who was
based at the Blue Note Jazz Club in Paris, and they soon discovered
more American jazz musicians who were living in the city. Musicians
like Horace Silver (with whom [the Blue Notes] were thrilled to
chat) were playing a lot in France (McGregor, 1995: 73-75). The
initial reaction towards South African jazz by European audiences
and musicians was that of amazement and disbelief, the music of
South Africans was different and they [musicians and audiences]
seemed uneasy as to how to take it; perhaps they felt in its
originality some form of a threat (ibid.). It was in London where
the Blue Notes initially were to have success thus opening doors
for their music to be felt all over Europe. But this was not an
immediate success, for example, their dbut performance in London at
Ronnie Scotts Jazz Club did not go as they hoped it would. The
audience and club owner (Ronnie Scott) were not used to South
African jazz, they preferred the U.S. prototype of jazz like,
straight-ahead, swing or bebop, [the Blue Notes] were a little too
much for the conservative British [audience] to be taken seriously
(Wilmer quoted in McGregor, 1995: 235). Despite the bands brief
appearance at Ronnie Scotts, this was nevertheless pivotal towards
the South Africans` imminent success in the London jazz scene, more
so because the Blue Notes` appearance at the famous club received
good previews in the press, which to some extent created curiosity
from audiences and musicians alike (ibid. : 88). Their music was
described in the British press as; [A] Unique style [that would
intimidate] away most sitters-in strange and evocative [and] sound
on first and second hearings alarmingly disjointed, irregular and
arbitrary. Yet they play with such intense involvement and passion
that all puzzlement is swept away in the excitement there is above
all an air of happening about them. How much of this may be due to
the inclusion of elements of South African music I cannot tell. But
there is freshness and an unexpectedness, both in the solos and the
melodies, that has disappeared from much of the music that once was
revolutionary. Today how many musicians are creating such a stir?
Are pushing jazz forward, not leaning comfortably on the past?
There are a handful in New York there was Dolphy.
24
There is Ornette Coleman. In this country many musicians are
influenced by such players, but there have been no focal points, no
original contributors. I hesitate to call the Blue Notes new wave.
They play musically within the boundaries set by Parker and his
associates, but emotionally beyond them they could be a
breakthrough in this country (where) a new challenge is needed. In
the Blue Notes we have for the first time such a challenge on our
door steps (Dave Kennard cited in McGregor, 1995: 88 and 89). South
African musicians arrived on the British scene with an added
advantage compared to most active musicians on the British scene at
the time. Their music was somewhat a breath of freshness to an
industry that was asphyxiated and throttled by the air of monotony
existent in the local jazz scene. According to Ansell, South
African musicians landed on a jazz scene restless for change, where
the New Orleans revival music was going nowhere except to
debutatantes balls. The Blue Notes literally upturned the London
scene helping create an exciting climate in which other young
players could develop their own ideas about musical freedom (Ansell
237238). The unique and dazzling urban township sounds of marabi
and kwela fused with American swing and bebop jazz styles, proved
to be what was needed to invigorate the stifled jazz scene in the
city. European musicians learned and played jazz the same way that
Parker or Miles did. Whereas to African musicians jazz is a vehicle
with which to express their ethnic sounds in a modern way.
Traditional African musics allow this because all the basic
elements (of improvisation, spontaneity, rhythm and so forth) found
in jazz are also present and recognizable in that music. The Blue
Notes` approach to jazz music as Kennard observes, [is] musically
within the boundaries set by Parker and his associates because
South African jazz betrays no perceptible differences in formal
structure from jazz as it is played elsewhere, It is jazz with a
bit of a twang or jazz with an accent. Among the jazz critics there
was a lot of puzzlement about this new wave of sound from Africa,
mainly because they didnt know how to categorise or characterize it
(whether as
25
afro-jazz, or jazz with a tinge of freeness in it ) even how to
respond to it. Also evident from Kennards article above is that at
the time of the Blue Notes` arrival in Britain there was a
burgeoning wave of free jazz within the local music scene.
Referring to the growing interest in free jazz in Britain, and the
Blue Notes` natural evolvement and gravitation towards the genre,
[w]e were fighting on all cylinders, delineates Moholo, Everyone
was changing to the avant-garde all over the place. It was a whole
bunch of new stuff starting to bloom up. It was fashionable and
intellectual. Oh yes sir and we enjoyed it (cited in Douglas,
2002). It is interesting and also astounding that Kennard draws a
parallel between the music of the Blue Notes and that of the U.S.
free jazz players, mainly because African musics frequently
anticipates the methodologies of free jazz; Yet Moholo`s assertions
in Douglas (regarding their involvement in the genre) suggests that
they were oblivious to their musics inherent connection with free
jazz. Fellow Blue Notes musician and bassist Dyani, in an interview
with Kennett Ansell for Impetus Magazine, stated that he first
encountered European avant-garde Stockhausen-type things in Zurich,
and they (Blue Notes) discovered the music of Albert Ayler (another
free jazz exponent and sax player) through Abdullah Ibrahim
(Rasmussen, 2003: 210). Clearly with their music the Blue Notes
were not attempting to play free jazz (at least not in the
beginning when they were still in South Africa), although their
approach to music at the time suggests that they were open-minded
about their music and were willing to explore new ideas as they
did. One can thus deduce that perhaps the Blue Notes were closer to
some of the U.S. free jazz players, vis--vis their thinking, their
approach to music and their daring openness to new possibilities.
Exilic South African author and critic Lewis Nkosi also draws a
parallel, as I will show, between South African musicians and their
American counterparts. For South African musicians their focal
26
point or source of inspiration is their indigenous or ethic
sounds which they have successfully fused with jazz. Nkosi (1966:
36) suggests that by using jazz as a vehicle to explore their
indigenous sounds, these musicians interestingly [arrived] where
American post-bop musicians like John Coltrane [and Ornette
Coleman, who had begun experimenting with African musics in free
jazz] now find themselves using different routes. South African
exilic percussionist Thebe Lepere19 also finds free jazz as
something that is recognisable in African musics as well (Ansell,
2004: 243). Thus in determining influences on modern jazz in South
Africa, jazz critics have a hard time in isolating American
avant-garde influences from indigenous African forms. Some-how
critics discovered in the music of the Blue Notes a tinge of
freeness and openness in it, perhaps the kind of freeness that was
espoused in the free jazz of Dolphy, Coltrane and Coleman; Hence,
Kennards comparison of the Blue Notes approach to their music with
U.S. musicians above also stating that there is an air of happening
about the Blue Notes, and Kennard alludes to that as a jazz critic
he does not know [h]ow much of this may be due to the inclusion of
elements of South African [indigenous musics] in their sounds.
Furthermore there is freshness and unexpectedness, both in the
solos and the melodies, that has disappeared from much of the music
that was once revolutionary. This point is also correlated in
Charlie Hadens assertions that the art form of jazz will flourish
only if musicians are willing to stretch the boundaries of jazz by
moving away from the safety of the conventional. Allowing their
passion for spontaneity to drive them towards exploring with new
concepts in creating something that has never been before. In this
regard Kennard refers to Dudu Pukwana s style of soloing as
spontaneous, unpredictable, and likens him to Dolphy, [a] blues
number may bring a string of rocking phrases, Kennard explains,
Then suddenly, what is this? Eric Dolphy? Id
27
know that grunt and squawk anywhere (McGregor, 1995: 88). The
Blue Notes emerged on the European and British music scene perhaps
as the most original band (to be known) on the local music scene;
using local musics such as kwela, mbaqanga, marabi as the basis for
melodies and improvisations could be exclusionary. These were
unknown soundscapes for many British musicians (McKay: forthcoming;
emphasis added) . They arrived in the country at a time when local
British musicians were beginning to move away from the straight
ahead and bebop sounds of Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, and were thus
exploring new possibilities of expressing jazz. However, in their
endeavours local British musicians had no originality because there
was nothing original that they could refer to, no focal point. They
were taking their lead from U.S free jazz players like Dolphy and
Ornette Coleman. In Britain, as Kennard points out, musicians are
influenced by such players. Elsewhere Kolbe remarked that South
African exilic musicians awakened Europeans musicians to jazz. This
should be viewed in terms of their success in fusing jazz with
South African elements, also their determination in extending the
boundaries of jazz by experimenting with other musics. Therefore
one might argue that they awakened European musicians to start
looking at their folk musics, and to employ jazz as a means of
expressing their folk heritage. For local European musicians to be
original, as Kennard might suggest, they should look within
themselves, they should use their folk musics as their point of
reference, their focal point. In an interview in Zurich with Jrg
Solothurnmann, South African bassist Johnny Dyani commented; When I
came to Europe I thought it would be nice to hear musicians playing
their folk [or traditional] music and assumed that everyone would
be proud of his folk culture. Then I discovered that a lot of
musicians are technically so good [sic] playing Giant Steps in and
out. But when it comes to playing their folk music its like a
skeleton moving Everybody is into the hip American
28
music! Its dangerous [because], [t]hey are without musical
identity (quoted in Rasmussen, 2003: 218; emphasis original).
Interestingly American free jazz pioneers like John Coltrane,
Pharaoh Sounders, Ornette Coleman, Sun-Ra and so forth were looking
at Africa and the East for inspiration to their music, as Ansell
put it; In the 1960s, radical American improvisersrenewed their
interest in African percussions. What was quickly evident was that
traditional African musics frequently anticipated the methodologies
of free jazz and that the sometimes anarchic energies of
contemporary African jazz were already more abstract than the
prevailing American models. In Europe, for a variety of reasons,
this was perceived more readily and there was a quicker and less
ideological tradeoff between African jazz and popular music on the
one hand, and free music (Cook & Morton cited in Ansell, 2004:
237). Free jazz, as compared to conventional straight ahead, swing
or be bop jazz, gives its practitioners freedom and latitude and
allows for the adoption of non-European musical approaches which
neither rely extensively on chord progressions nor use much
harmony(Gridley, 2000: 283-284). For example, In the 1970`s Ornette
Coleman visited African countries like Morocco and Nigeria, playing
with local musicians and interpreting the melodic and rhythmic
complexities of their music into his Harmolodic approach.20 Free
jazz players like Ornette Coleman, Dolphy and Coltrane used the
genre as a vehicle to explore their spiritual connection with the
African continent as well as asserting their Africaness21. With the
Blue Notes, as Brian Blain puts it, [t]heir African background has
helped them to revitalise the increasingly sophisticated forms of
modern jazz with a rhythmic delight and instinctive involvement
with sound (quoted in McGregor, 1995: 90). The infiltration and
subsequent triumph of the Blue Notes on the British improvised
music, should not be seen as the first success story of South
Africans in that country. London was first introduced to a taste of
urban popular music and township theatre through the arrival of the
South African musical King-Kong in the early 1960s, which was
so
29
well received that it successfully ran in British theatres for
two years. Britain had colonial ties with both African and
Caribbean countries, as a result of this, it attracted many
musicians from the commonwealth countries who were musically active
and contributed to the local scene22.These musicians contributed to
the British popular and underground musics. Somehow one cannot help
the temptation to categorise the Blue Notes as perhaps an
underground institution not in terms of their sound but regarding
their fame and recognition vis--vis South African exilic music in
the U.S. their contribution to jazz, as McKay points out; [ has by
and large gone unnoticed] nor even of their being the most high
profile in the jazz firmamentthis would be reserved for those South
African musicians who gravitated towards the United States, and
who, interestingly, would tend to play less experimental music than
the exile careers of the Blue Notes. I have in mind here the likes
of Abdullah Ibrahim (aka Dollar Brand), trumpeter Hugh Masekela,
singer Miriam Makeba, for instance. What sets the members of the
Blue Notes apart is, first, their collective near instant impact on
the British jazz scene of the mid-1960s, musically, visually,
socially, politically. Second, their enduring commitment to
experimental forms of improvisation, as they frequently set out to
explore the possibilities of combining their township jazz styles
of kwela and mbaqanga with the burgeoning free improvisation scene
in Europe, and to do this in collaboration with British and
European players. Last, by no means least, the fact that the
contribution of most of these musicians endured for all of their
lives in Europe is remarkable: their creative, liberatory and
inspirational African cultural presence has been a vital (sometimes
misunderstood, resented as well) source of energy and innovation
(McKay: forthcoming). One of the greatest ironies in South Africa
is that the contributions of musicians like the ones of the Blue
Notes have by and large gone unnoticed in this Country.
30
Notes: Chapter three: Jazz in Exile
31
1
Name of an article written in 1966 by Lewis Nkosi (South African
Journalist, exiled in London). Quoted in Scott (1991), McKay
(Unpublished) and Ansell (2004). For example see Rasmussens (2003,
92 100) interview with Mohammed Al- Jabry. See
www.afrocubaweb.com/chanopozo.htm.
2
3
4
5
Juan Tizol was a trombonist from San Juan, he joined Ellingtons
orchestra in 1929 and continued playing with Duke for 15yrs. Tizol
wrote only a few tunes, most of them during his time with
Ellington--and usually left the arrangements to Ellington. However,
two of these songs have become standards in jazz and exotica:
"Caravan" and "Perdido." "Caravan" was usually the second number
played when the Ellington band performed. As with most of
Ellington's own songs, Irving Mills provided the lyrics to
"Caravan". Among Tizol's other compositions are "Bakiff,"
"Pyramid," "Moonlight Fiesta," "Conga Brava," "Sphinx," and
"Keb-lah." All of these were recorded by one of Ellington's
ensembles. Also see http://www.spaceagepop.com/tizol.htm.6
The U.S. jazz/Brazilian music confluence started with the 1962
recording of Stan Getz with American guitar player Charlie Bird
collaboration entitled Jazz Samba, this recording sparked the bossa
nova craze in the U.S. And elsewhere in the world. The
collaboration between saxophonist Stan Getz and guitarist Joo
Gilberto came at seemingly the end of the bossa nova craze Getz
himself had sparked in 1962 Jazz Samba remains the only jazz album
to reach number one in the pop charts. In fact, the story goes that
Getz had to push for the release of Getz/Gilbert since the company
did not want to compete with its own hit; it was a good thing he
did. Getz/Gilberto spent 96 weeks in the charts and won four
Grammys (Fernando Gonzalez). See www.amazon.co.uk.7
In his album Genes and Spirits Molelekwa collaborated with Airto
Moreira, Flora Purim and Jose Neto all from Brazil; There have been
a number of musicians (especially from the Cape where the genre is
popular in the club scene) who a have recorded predominantly Latin
songs for their albums, for example, Tucan Tucans recent
album.8
For example see Bruce Johnsons article called The Jazz Diaspora,
appearing on The Cambridge companion to jazz / edited by Mervyn
Cooke and David Horn.9
Gwangwa is cited in pg. 339 in Bernstein The Rift also see
Titlestad`s Making Changes pg. 253.
10
the designated post apartheid name for South Africa, as espoused
especially by those whose political ideology was linked to
pan-Africanism or Black Consciousness.11
For example see McKay (forthcoming) and Titlestad (2004, 139-
153). Also quoted in Scott, 1991: 36 and Titlestad, 2004: 140.
12
13
This information is from an untitled internet document; however
the website where this article appears is linked to Rhodes
university research centre.
http://www.ru.ac.za/institutes/iser/research/heritages/PhotoCol/Contact.htm14
also cited in McKay Also see McKay (forthcoming) and Scott
(1991, 36).
15
16
Regional African language radio services for the SABC were all
grouped together under Radio Bantu, for broadcasting in IsiZulu,
Venda, Tsonga, and so forth. Other stations catered for English and
Afrikaans speakers and there was also radio Lotus for
Indians.17
For example I was born in the Soweto Township of Meadowlands
which is subdivided in zones (zone1 to 10), Zone 1, 2, 3 are
predominantly Sotho. Zone 4, 5 &10 were designated for Tsonga
and Venda Speaking people and so forth. In Dobsonville (another
Soweto township) there is a Sotho and Xhosa section, this pattern
is found throughout Soweto and other townships. The apartheid
government subdivided blacks according to their ethnic background
even in the hostels or in the mines this was strongly entrenched.
Growing up I often witnessed fights between rival townships, at one
point those of us who were in Zone 10 in Meadowlands could not go
to Dobsonville and visa versa. As a child I could not understand
why I was not allowed to cross the street to go and play with a
friend (Thabang) as our houses were (respectively) separated by
a
street which also demarcated the end of Meadowlands and the
beginning of Dobsonville.18
Traditional leaders like Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi, Mphephu,
and so forth were seen as collaborators of the Government.19
Thebe Lepere hails from Mofolo in Soweto, he left the Country in
1978 with the first cast of Ipintombi and returned for the first
time in the country with Louis Moholos Viva La Black in 1993.20
Although, Coleman managed to travel to Africa in the seventies
his interest in African musics started much earlier in his
career.21
See Mark Gridleys Jazz Styles: History and Analysis. 7th ed.
Chapter 14 on free jazz see George McKays chapter: Jazz of the
black Atlantic and the Commonwealth
22
