Slave To The Ism

Speaking of real jazz, everybody interested in how a group of  black-rebel musical anarchists might manage to collectively stick to the point for four decades needs to read George Lewis’ A Power Stronger Than Itself, The AACM And American Experimental Music (University of Chicago Press) .For those unaware or just plain ign’ant the Association For the Advancement of Creative Musicians is the Chicago based organization from whence came such rugged musical individualists as Muhal Richard Abrams, Anthony Braxton, The Art Ensemble of Chicago, Pete Cosey,Henry Threadgill, Nicole Mitchell and Matana Roberts. Author Lewis isn’t just an advocate, he’s also an equally visionary member in his own right– being not only something akin to the Jimi Hendrix of the trombone, but, as well,  the designer of an improvising software program( Voyager). You dont need to be so polymath to read his book –its an existential page turner. Kinda like an engrossing Russian family novel about  working-class African American moms and dads in 50s and 60s Chicago who made sure their dreamy ghetto-born kids could be anything they wanted to be. Not being ones to squander such efforts on their behalf the members of the AACM went on to become models for how that wooly and fragile thing known as Black Genius can be made ridicolously self-reliant and learn how to play avant-reindeer games well with others. Lewis doesnt skim on the race and gender politics and basic adminsitration fluckups the organization blundered through along the way. This unabashed handling of the truth gives the book a bracing critical honesty  rare to ‘movement histories’ written from the inside.

For  seven days of creation,(July 5-12) the mutha-tfreakin’ Afro-Punk Film and Music Fest came back to Brooklyn with a bigger than ever bang of free rad performances, dangerously dark cinema and a half-pipe skate park. While some younguns were curling, looping and hurling through the air, others tentatively nodded, shuffled and stuck a toe out towards the fervently Afrocentric mosh pits that kinda-sorta whirled about appearances by Tamar-Kali, Game Rebellion, The Dirtbombs (who destroyed us all with a set of Motor-city mayhem the likes of which likely made Babylon fall) , Janelle Monae( thepictures above by Richard Loussaint say it all), The Noisettes (a no-show unfortunately), Bazaar Royale, Sophia Ramos (who not only rocked but exposed DD’s  as is historically her wont when the soundman isnt doing her right), Kudu, The Carps, Whole Wheat Bread and DJ Rich Medina. Had we launched a week ago like we tried to we would have advised you break into a light trot to secure tix and seats for the screenings of  flicks about P-funk, Lee Scratch Perry and two rarely seen black indie film masterpieces, Bill Gunn’s Ganja and Hess–which is to other ‘groid vampire movies as the writings of Anne Rice are to those of Bela Lugosi–and Larry Clark’s Passing Through which is to other jazz flix as the mind of Sun Ra is to the deep thoughts  of Chris Botti’s curling iron. Bravo to organizers Matthew Morgan and James Spooner and to our favorite rock n’ roll DJ’s The Dustbin Brothers