Shuffling through legacy

Tonight, "Shuffle Along, Or, The Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed", directed by George C. Wolfe and choreographed by Savion Glover, opens on Broadway. Twenty years ago, almost to the day, "Bring In Da Noise, Bring In Da Funk" opened on Broadway, also helmed by Wolfe and Glover. One week ago today, Prince died. This past Sunday, an exhibition and series of events about Cecil Taylor wrapped up at the Whitney Museum. This past Sunday also ended the first weekend of the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. It all has heightened a stream of cultural remembrance, emotion and connection that is running deeply in my veins.

Seeing a preview of "Shuffle" was a multilayered experience. I reflected on the history I had studied of black performers of the early 20th century. I had memories of meeting Eubie Blake. I felt the presence of my parents, who regaled me with stories of their courtship in New York and Harlem seeing some of the greats like Cab Calloway and Louis Armstrong. I "saw" Savion in various stages of his dance development. I was hearing fragments of stories told to me by Cookie Cook, Marion Coles, Tony White, Buster Brown,

Cast of "Shuffle Along" 1921

Mable Lee and Harold Cromer. I saw myself in Harlem in 1950s studying tap with Mr. Dow. I thought of the inspiration I got from the artists being portrayed in front of me, the black performers who laid the foundation of what I love to do and paved the way for the folks on stage in "Shuffle" to do what they do. It particularly was touching to see some young dancers I know in the chorus on stage, dancing their hearts out. Even though the show still needed work, which I assume has gotten done, it affected me strongly.

I'm in the middle of reading the Miles Davis autobiography and he popped up on the internet last week in a video clip talking about Prince (see below). He said that Prince combined James Brown, Jimi Hendricks, Marvin Gaye and Charlie Chaplin. I can relate to that. l didn't follow Prince a lot, but what I heard I liked and appreciated his persona. The one time I saw him, I got it. He was a surprise guest at a Maceo Parker concert and turned it out in his little white suit and guitar. I followed even less, Cecil Taylor, because his type of music is a bit "out there" for me, but going to the Whitney show on him gave me great insight to him and his work. He goes his way and is a great mover, who also combines a number of influences into his work. Watching a video of him dancing/playing the piano and seeing exhibits of how he "scores" his work made me feel a connection to the essence of his artistry, which seemed not much different to ideas I get. Two black men strongly paving their unique paths, one still active after a long life and another cut off too soon. 

It was right on time last weekend for me to go to the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. It's one heck of an experience, music and food everywhere...yes! For my first visit, I stayed with good friends who live near the French Quarter and was able to bike to the location of

Black Indians at New Orleans Jazz Festival

the festival. I took in what I could from the various stages but two moments stood out for me. In the Gospel Tent I heard The Zion Harmonizers sing "I'll Fly Away" that took me, and everyone else in the venue, almost to heaven...it was great! But what topped that was seeing Rhiannon Giddens in the Blues Tent. She is a singer, violinist, banjo player and founding member of Carolina Chocolate Drops, who do country, blues and old-time music. But her base is very much in the black connection in all that music. Two numbers got to me. One was "Children Go Where I Send Thee" sung by Chocolate Drops member Hubby Jenkins, done in a way I hadn't heard before, but brought back strong memories of singing another version of it as a child. The other is number that always has me screaming when Giddens sings it, "Waterboy". This is a folk tune/work song that I first heard done by Paul Robeson. Giddens sings it simply with a voice that is a holler, that gets enforced by a base/banjo/guitar/drum hit when she strikes her hand in the air, in a rhythm based on repetitive work that is strong and mesmerizing. She soars when she sings it, as her voice seems to come from deep inside of the earth, and as she sang, I also heard Robeson and the souls of many others who suffered in another time. I was in tears, but energized by the end of her set. 

It all has been filling, at this point in time, for me. I feel part of a legacy of African American theater/music/dance/life living/communicating/food and more that previous generations nurtured and developed. I feel those ancestors, but also feel those younger ones who were in my life, influenced me and left "too soon". I'm still processing the passing of Fred Holland, someone who I performed with a few times and opened me up in terms of performance and artistic vision. He was a dancer and visual artist whose physical art pieces were often made of everyday objects. There is a force of energy I feel now that propels work to be done in the name of him and others. Keeping a legacy alive.

Tomorrow is 117th anniversary of Duke Ellington's birth.