What would you do to keep your reality intact? This was the question posed by composer, conductor, and jazz pianist Kevin Harris to a crowd of hundreds gathered in the Beinecke Library on Monday. By the light of illuminated bookshelves, New Haveners gathered to share in a musical and educational experience, inspired by the work of writer and activist James Baldwin and part of the International Festival of Arts & Ideas.
“Baldwin asks us to imagine: what if you came out and you saw the stars, the sun, ablaze?” said Harris. “In a lot of ways we’re answering Baldwin right here right now.”
Harris’s answer was a three-movement jazz performance, based on and in conversation with The Fire Next Time, Baldwin’s exploration of race in America. He performed his “Roots, Water, & Sunlight” together with a band comprised of Anabel Diaz on flute, Jonathan Suazo on alto sax, Gregory Groover Jr. on tenor sax, Jason Palmer and Daniel Sky on trumpets, Megan Riccio on french horn, Sophia Griswold and Tino Erdos on trombone, Tyson Jackson on drums, Calvin Lemuel on EDI (electronic digital instrument), and Harold Cincero on keys.
To open the piece, a recording of James Baldwin’s writing played over the speakers: “But as you will discover, people find it very difficult to act on what they know. To act is to be committed, and to be committed is to be in danger. Heaven and earth are shaken to their foundations.”
The music rose from a whisper to a full-blown shout. It brought to mind a crowded city street during rush hour, the fabric of society spiraling into organized chaos. It was bold and confident, with a razor’s edge of anxiety.
“To accept one’s past, one’s history, is not the same as drowning in it. It is learning how to use it,” came the voice quoting Baldwin over the speakers. As if in response, the music softened, before returning in full foot-tapping force. Harris’s music was made for motion, for action and for change. The audience members tapped their feet and rocked almost unconsciously in their seats, all sailors on the same wave of sound. Almost everyone in the audience smiled as they listened. The good mood of the music was contagious.
The second movement, “The Uphill Quest of Fragility, Courage, and Curiosity,” started slow and rhythmic, as if it was gradually announcing its presence. A knock on the door, which, when opened, revealed a maelstrom of sound, like the howling of a particularly melodious and capricious wind.
Then the pace picked up as the music segued into a trumpet solo, one of many solos of the evening. Harris’s approach to solos is to leave that section of the music blank, and to allow his players to improvise, with fantastic results. The music built to a crescendo, before subsiding into a soft evening sound that brought to mind birdsong. There was a feeling of community, not just in the room, but in the music itself. As if it was designed to be shared, and shared freely, without borders or restrictions.
“The glorification of one race, and the consequent debasement of another or others, has always been, and always will be, a recipe for murder,” played on a loop as the second movement ended.
The third movement, “Horizon of an Unknown Star,” opened with the mournful notes of a French horn. It was an uneasy sound, like the gathering of storm clouds, but when the storm broke it was hopeful and before long, joyous.
The words “the necessity of love” played on a loop over the speaker, before the music slowed to a trickling warble of saxophone notes. The sax seemed to be in conversation with the rest of the band, with the applause of the audience serving as the third party in the discussion. During an extended sax section, Harris actually waved his music portfolio at the players as if cooling them down, to the laughter of the audience.
“We, with love, shall force our brothers to see themselves as they are, and we can make America what America must become,” came the voice over the speakers.
Kevin Harris and Band perform "Roots, Water, & Sunlight."
As the music swelled to a triumphant peak, Harris encouraged the audience to clap along, which many had already been doing. Then he urged them to their feet, until the entire room was dancing in place. This also meant they were in exactly the right position for a standing ovation, which, as the movement ended, they happily gave.
Harris hoped his audience left with a feeling of deep meaning, from both Baldwin and himself. “The words of Baldwin that move them, I hope my music moves them in the same way,” he said. If the bright smiles and energetic applause were anything to go by, he had succeeded in his mission.