Abdullah Ibrahim, who died on June 15 aged 91, became one of the first South African musicians to establish an international audience, with Duke Ellington as an early patron. At home in South Africa his music became part of the struggle for freedom. In 2008 Ibrahim played at the Melbourne International Jazz Festival.
Rhythms World Music correspondent Tony Hillier spoke to Ibrahim prior to the festival and his interview featured in the magazine.
Legendary pianist and composer Dr. Abdullah Ibrahim might be well into his seventies, but he’s not exactly your stereotypical sedentary septuagenarian. South Africa’s shining jazz messenger still regularly wings his way around the globe for major engagements — most imminently the 2008 Melbourne Jazz Festival. When he’s not gigging, the man who’s primarily responsible for melding modern jazz with traditional South African music, can be found practicing martial arts, helping to run the music school he founded in Cape Town, conducting master classes or pursuing any one of a dozen other activities.
A self-confessed cricket tragic, he even bowls a little off-spin sometimes, “though not very effectively”, he hastens to add. Dr. Ibrahim, who names our own Keith Miller among his heroes, is not averse to bowling the odd googly to interviewers, especially when the interrogator plays with too straight a bat. Some fairly direct questions are directed to the boundary or met with puzzlement or silence. Others are fobbed off with mumbles about static on the phone line (more a case of selective hearing, one suspects).
In any event, there seems little doubt that the tall pianist is genuinely looking forward to returning to Australia, where he first toured as a soloist in the ‘eighties. He played with a trio when he performed at WOMADelaide in 2004 and will have his septet, Ekaya, in tow when he comes back next month, three saxophones (alto, tenor and baritone), trombone, drums and bass. “I’ve been playing with most of these guys on and off for the last 10-15 years, and I can tell you they’re all fantastic musicians,” asserts the bandleader.
Dr. Ibrahim assuredly knows top drawer talent when he sees it. After all, he performed with some of the giants of American jazz while domiciled in New York in the ‘sixties, including John Coltrane, Pharoah Sanders, Cecil Taylor, Don Cherry, Wayne Shorter and Art Blakey. “We were all friends and we were all striving for excellence,” he stresses. “Of course, in those years they called us avant-garde musicians. The intense studies that we had been doing before we arrived in New York City crystallized when we got there. New York in the ‘sixties was one of those magical moments in timeline, when all of these incredible creators were there. We all shared the work and experience.”
Before he converted to Islam in 1968 and was known as Dollar Brand, he even led the Duke Ellington Orchestra. Not surprisingly, he rates the last-named gig among the highlights of his musical career. “Mind you, it was very scary,” he confides. “I made so many mistakes — they all gave me the eye,” he laughs. “It was one thing listening to that orchestra on record; it was another experience to listen to them in concert. But sitting inside the space ship when it took off was something else. I had an opportunity to understand and learn some of these closely guarded secrets of what happens in arranging.”
Although he concedes that Duke Ellington, Oscar Peterson and Thelonious Monk informed his piano playing, he cites Herbie Nichols as his major influence. “He was an unbelievable musician in terms of compositions and his concept. I think he only made two LPs on Blue Note. In those years when I first started, there was also James P. Johnson and Albert Ammons. And, of course, local musicians. There was one who played house parties. I used to go and sit there and listen to him in Cape Town. We only knew him under the name of ‘Pickles’. He played traditional South African music on piano.”
A part-time tenor sax player who also plays soprano, flute and cello, the great pianist also professes to be a big fan of Sonny Rollins: “I put my tenor down for a couple of months last year because I listened to Sonny Rollins again [laughs heartily]. We understand Coltrane, you know — I have 98 different transcribed versions of his ‘Giant Steps’, but when you listen to Sonny … he’s incredible.”
The good doctor also waxes lyrical about the jazz singing of Sathima Bea Benjamin, the woman he married in 1965. “My daughter Jean Grae [aka “What What”] has taken that concept and the heritage forward. When my daughter was interviewed she said: ‘My daddy is a rapper’. I felt very honoured. My son, Tsakwe, is a great musician too.”
Dr. Ibrahim is currently artist-in-residence at Essen Philharmonie in Germany. “I teach solo piano and I do a project with a trio, and this year I’m also doing a new work with the Philharmonic Orchestra. We’re also doing a project with the Cologne Philharmonic Orchestra and Big Band. In May, we’re playing the Barbican Centre in London with the BBC Big Band, the BBC Philharmonic Concert Orchestra and voices.”
At home in South Africa he’s also involved with the Cape Town Jazz Orchestra, which is linked with his M7 music academy. “The M7 Development Program is a support system and a conduit for other musicians to come into the Orchestra,” he says. “We’ve also just been given funding to do the M7 music academy on an international level, so we will offer a residency program.”
The master pianist is a strong proponent of music’s healing and transformative power: “You know with M7 one of our disciplines is medicine. We work with medical people from all over the world and we all agree that there’s only one basic formula in music, martial arts, architecture … whatever, and the basic formula is healing. For me, the healing’s in music.”
As a young man, Abdullah Ibrahim, who was born Adolph Johannes Brand, was refused entry to both medical school and music conservatory because of his colour. These days he plays a significant role as an educator in South Africa, and not just in the music realm: “M7 started off with me wanting to teach young people to play, but it’s gone far beyond that,” he says: “We show people how to live a more holistic lifestyle.”
When quizzed as to what ways his music has changed over the years, Dr. Ibrahim gives an answer worthy of the Zen master he once studied under: “Some very wise person once said: ‘The only people who do not change are prophets and fools’. Number one, I’m definitely not. A fool … sometimes. One of our illustrious poets also said: ‘God created us half angel and half donkey’.”
When the subject of musical genres is broached, the good doctor laughs heartily. “In our day, there was no such thing as South African jazz, Cape Town jazz or Australian jazz. You just played the music. That was what was so great about jazz: it didn’t matter who you were, where you came from. If you played the music that was the entry.
“It’s fantastic that we’re now living in a global village. We understand the uniqueness in our differences, and some of our similarities. I grew up listening to this traditional music. We have 11 different languages in South Africa, so we have 11 different cultures. I was fortunate because I travelled all over the country — I used to walk from Cape Town to Johannesburg and just listen and play, so I was exposed to these different slants of musical experiences.”
When asked which albums from his extensive back catalogue have given him most satisfaction, Dr. Ibrahim laughs again: “When Duke Ellington was asked what was his best album, he answered: ‘The next one’,” he replies. Personalising the response, he adds: “I don’t listen to my music. My musicians are always urging me to listen to something they have found and then I go back to it. For us [Muslims], there is only one thing in mind and that’s to perfect whatever it is that we’re doing — to perfect your art. For me it’s a very simple equation, but for some it seems difficult to grasp: Obey God and play a praise song to the best of your ability. Always push yourself out of your comfort zone.”
Invited to select some career highlights, he says: “Meeting the people on the way, especially the many teachers that I’ve been privileged to learn from, and still learn from.” Quizzed further, he agrees that playing at the presidential inauguration of Nelson Mandela in 1994 is one event that has stayed in his mind. “Wow — what an experience that was. I mean to go to Pretoria [laughs]. It was quite incredible.”
Dr. Ibrahim promises to play a mixture of old and new material at his Melbourne Jazz Festival gigs. The former, he says, will include version of ‘Mannenberg’, a number central to his canon. “There will be South African expatriates there so we will have to include a little of it, won’t we?”
Written in the mid-seventies, ‘Mannenberg’, he concurs, was a watershed composition — when the world officially recognised South African jazz. “It’s not just a song; it’s an experience,” he expands. “We recorded the song at the time of the student uprising in South Africa.” ‘Mannenberg’ doubled as an anthem for the struggle against apartheid, the iniquitous doctrine that sent Dr. Ibrahim, and musical colleagues such as Hugh Masekela and Miriam Makeba into exile for so many years. “We realised we had to leave after the Sharpeville massacre,” he recounts. “We had been identified as part of the resistance movement and were subject to harassment and arrest.”
Dr. Ibrahim doesn’t mind reflecting on the past. He’s not in the least bit concerned that some people in the jazz world still know him as Dollar Brand. “It’s fantastic — it keeps me on my toes in a way. It defines where I came from.” He acquired the nickname when buying 78 swing records for a dollar apiece from black GIs in Cape Town during World War II. More than 60 years on, Dr. Abdullah Ibrahim is renowned as the man who introduced South African jazz to the world.
As part of the 2008 Melbourne Jazz Festival, Abdullah Ibrahim conducted a master class at Federation Square (April 30), played at the Regent Theatre with Ekaya (May 1) in a double-header with the Charlie Hunter Trio, and with his trio at Bennetts Lane (May 2).