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Thursday, July 24, 2025

When the Sun Becomes a Bird: the 44th Konfrontationen in Nickelsdorf



Photo by author

By Andrew Choate 

As the geopolitical world continues to reach new depths of shallowness in terms of respect for humanity, my appreciation for the art that transpired at the 44th Konfrontationen in Nickesldorf last July has only grown. Dedicated to the phenomenal Swiss pianist Irène Schweizer, who had recently passed, the music this year now seems like a utopian counterpoint to the global tragedies increasing and accelerating. In some ways, I’ve always thought of improvised music as a model for living, an ethics-in-action, a real-time negotiation with the material world, an attempt to create something beautiful while wrestling with the myriad shifting social conditions involved.

The trio of Sylvia Bruckner (piano), Tony Buck (drums, percussion) and Martin Siewert (electric guitar, lap steel, electronics) embodied this spirit with understated precision. Siewert opened by groping the electrobuzz, kindling a delicate heartfelt piano twinkle harmonic resonance from Bruckner. Her melodies crinkled—somber and assured—using    the dampening of the strings to bring mellifluous connections to the fore. Siewert added a few ghostly isolated acoustic strums on his guitar before zooming in on an essential psychedelic crux. (I know I always note his psych moments. Martin, dm me when you start a new-wave Flower Travellin’ Band; I’ll drop everything I’m doing and work for you.) This full band rose in waves, quickening their pace and amplifying the decibels before receding and rising again, multiple times – but each time finding surprisingly perpendicular routes to the halting and quietizing.

Green verdure from the music with the late night blue sky. Buck pulled out a scrape as harsh as pulling the skin off a bee, but verdure has that side too. Their second piece started swirlier, an invitation to the maelstrom, Bruckner bowing the piano leg, then a solid crosshatching by Buck to shade in the full picture: look! animals in a landscape!

Photo by Karl Wendelin

Akira Sakata (vocals, clarinet, alto saxophone, bells) & Entasis: Giovanni di Domenico (piano)/ Giotis Damianidis (electric guitar)/ Petros Damianides (doublebass)/ Aleksander Škorić (drums, percussion)

The air was so blue, the light so piercingly blue, in the sky, on my lap, Bogdana started dancing, and then a weird howl that wasn’t coming from any visible instrument tornadoed through the garden. A piano vs. guitar warble-off broke loose, so Sakata got inchwormy, in the Coltrane sense. The grounding force of di Domenico’s piano in this ensemble cannot be overstated: his centeredness allowed the band to follow their wildest whims, and his precise accents made each wildness sound wilder, more beloved for being so.

Sakata went trilling toward heaven on alto before switching to clarinet, just as the guitarist switched to another more suited for congliptious underpinnings and thick washes of thrum. Å korić played a scrappy brand of workhorse drums, using leverage and balance to keep the music improbably afloat. Once Sakata opened his mouth for poetry, the full guttural grist and gumption came pouring out. It felt like a blessing, direct and primal. I remember sensing his vocal sounds emerging cone-shaped, spreading like seeds across the space, popping in everyone’s ears at slightly different moments. Edi said it felt like Sakata was narrating the final two episodes of Samurai Jack – bittersweet and oddly fulfilling.

Akira Sakata. Photo by Karl Wendelin
It was free jazz blue, and it blew – but not without a loping melody in the zone of Synopsis’ classic “Mehr Aus Teutschen Landen” from Auf Der Elbe Schwimmt Ein Rosa Krokodil. The band ended on a rumble. Magda D. likened the set to “a wind of energy that comes through the soul and undusts it, sweeping out bad stuff. Calming. After the storm of music, the storm inside is calmer.”

Martin Brandlmayr (drums, percussion)/ Elisabeth Harnik (piano)/ Didi Kern (drums, percussion)

What struck me most was how effective it was that the two drummers couldn’t really see what each other were doing; they just listened and worked together to elevate Harnik. All three launched in with force and never let up. There was density—trebly density—with huffed cymbals rising mountainous into thinner air. At moments it felt like three drummers; at other times, five pianists. We’re talking real cymbal delicacy here – shimmers in tune. That mountaineering feeling never left me: this was music as adventure – climbing, rappelling, gasping for breath, struggling and loving it (what exquisite views!)

Harnik Trio. Photo by Karl Wendelin
Harnik can play skyrocketing harmonies because she lifts her hands and fingers so far off the keys: we have ignition! we have exclamation points!! Brandlmayr channelled jungle jangles, kids kicked a soccer ball in the alley during the second piece, and Kern coralled the rollingness of constantly shifting downbeats. I watched his reflection in the piano lid, which gave the music an added layer of connectedness. The whole thing felt like winning the world’s most non-competetive race: the only way to win was together.

Flights of Motherless Birds

John Butcher (saxophones)/ Chris Corsano (drums, percussion)/ Flo Stoffner (guitar)

On the second day at the Jazzgalerie, I noticed how satisfying the new chairs are: cushy in two places! Perfect for sinking into while aborbing an interlacing of densities from three improvisors prone to prod the microclimates. They micro-processed air (Butcher), land (Corsano) and sea (Stoffner), each shaping a zone with exacting detail. There was something ladder-like about the performance – not in the sense of ups and downs, but in the regular intervallic shifting, like rungs you trace with your ears. I heard the theme song for a really twisted detective show – one with no crimes, but an overwhelming number of clues.

John Butcher. Photo by Karl Wendelin

Insect-style improv, yes, but with a rhapsody corrector. They had the guts to stop when it was right, not dragging an idea past its peak: sweet conclusions discovered were honored, not inflated. It didn’t seem like they had a lot of different things to say, but sometimes saying one thing clearly, tenderly and fluidly from multiple angles is more than enough.

Luís Vicente (trumpet)/ John Dikeman (tenor saxophone)/ Luke Stewart (doublebass)/ Onno Govaert (drums, percussion)

This set felt like announcement music – declarative and insistent. Bogdana responded with a dance that felt like prayer through movement. Govaert was new to me, and I loved how he meshed with Stewart; the two built a thick, flexible web of bass and drums. At times, Dikeman’s overblown tenor made me wonder whether it’s the right horn for him, like maybe he would be better off figuring out new ways to freak a flute. Similar to Brötzmann, when he slows down, he can carve out a really fine sequence of notes, as he did while undergirding Vicente’s fast solo with a solid, descending motif.

John Dikeman. Photo by Karl Wendelin

An intricate and fascinating staccato puzzle began forming in the rhythm section, until Dikeman burst in with vocalic exclamations that sent the whole thing in another direction. Stewart’s bass solo was all too brief – especially given the layered, detailed groundwork he was laying throughout, to anchor the wind instruments’ fervor. Playing bass in this band felt like trying to slow down a racecar: how can you get the driver to honor both the car and the track, the holistic totality of speed and terrain? If a bird’s flight is a message to be deciphered and then obeyed, the sunrise glory rays cast by a frog preparing to leap are pure command.

Red Desert Experience: Eve Risser (piano)/ Matthias Müller (trombone)/ Grégoire Tirtiaux (baritone saxophone)/ Tatiana Paris (guitar)/ David Merlo (bass)/ Melisse Hié (balafon, djembe)/ Ophélia Hié (balafon), Oumarou Bambara (djembe, bara)/ Emmanuel Scarpa (drums, percussion)

This was the set I had most anticipated all weekend, and I was not disappointed. When it began with a balafon solo, which soon became a duo by the Hié sisters, the first thing I noted was that even the musicians not yet playing were smiling, nodding and dancing with their heads. That’s what you want! I was trying to brush away the goosebumps on my arm—I was so full of anticipation for the full ensemble’s sound, I even cried a little imagining what was to come—but the goosebumps stayed, and I stayed riveted, perched on the edge of my seat for the whole performance (though I couldn’t help wishing some space had been cleared for us to dance). [I know the photos are all of djembes, but different moments in text can be illustrated by different images]

Red Desert Experience. Photo by Karl Wendelin

Risser was already dancing on her piano bench before even touching the keys, which amped me up even more. As each instrumentalist joined in, it felt like they were adding colors we hadn’t known were missing – each entry making the picture richer and more vibrant. Merlo’s electric bass locked into perfect synchrony with Risser’s spectral scrapes from beyond the veil. I became totally enamored with her physicality at the piano: standing, throbbing over the keys, through the keys, throbbing through the music. She leads this orchestra not by dominance, but by sheer love for the sound – and that love is infectious. The interplay between piano and balafons was both sophisticated and tactile, harmonic and endearing.

Photo by Karl Wendelin

We basked in polyrhythms, then Risser raised her hand and signaled: 1, 2, 3, 4 BANG – an abrupt, thrilling stop to open onto an abstract trombone solo from Müller, utterly enchanting. Later, Risser added flute, and suddenly we were in Conference of the Birds territory – especially as Tirtiaux played his baritone saxophone with the mouthpiece removed, sculpting soft, breathy reverberations. I’ve written before about how much I admire Risser, and this performance opened up a new dimension to that admiration: her ability to extend the traditions I love by infusing them with sound worlds that haven’t historically shared space. Dark waves of tone clusters and gorgeously exorbitant major chords meshed wondrously with traditional African percussion instruments. Michael said the performance felt like an homage to Schweizer; even if it was unconscious, Irène was certainly in the air. And I have no doubt she was flying on plumes of radiance.

Hamid Drake (drums, percussion)/ Georg Graewe (piano)/ Brad Jones (doublebass)

By the time this set began, I was wiped out – wishing it had been placed anywhere else in the program. (Why make anything follow Red Desert Experience?) But such is the largesse of the Konfrontationen: outrageous highs follow outrageous highs, and it’s the audience’s job to keep pace. Alas, even with musicians I’m practically obsessed with, I could barely focus in the moment. At the time, Jones’ bass didn’t seem to add much to the several-decade rapport between Graewe and Drake. But now that the recording has been released, I hear it differently. There’s a lot of strong, responsive pivoting in his playing – grounding the dialogue and giving it shape. Sometimes we need a little hindsight to hear what was really there.

Brad Jones. Photo by Karl Wendelin

What Do You Want from a Bird?

José Lencastre (alto saxophone)/ Vinicius Cajado (doublebass)

Sitting in the shade of the stone arena at the Kleylehof to start the third day was just what the body needed. This pleasant afternoon wake-up set was perfectly embodied by the image of Lencastre, barefoot in the grass, playing alto saxophone. At one point, he even paused mid-phrase to let a breeze pass. His Desmond-like clarity and warmth couldn’t have been gentler, or more attuned to the moment.

Cajado & Lencastre. Photo by Karl Wendelin

Cajado, too, leaned into tenderness – using the bass’s glorious low-end to soften and lubricate the lightness in the air, never perturb it. From the performances I’ve seen and the recordings I’ve heard, his wide range is clear – but today it was his restraint and generosity that stood out. This was an afternoon duo of subtle gestures, gracious pacing and attunement to the setting.

Egg Shaped Orbit: Almut Schlichting (baritone saxophone)/ Els Vandeweyer (vibraphone, balafon)/ Keisuke Matsuno (electric guitar)

I had to catch up on a meal during this set, so I listened from a little farther away than usual, which may have accounted for my inability to fully submerge into it. Strange, since I’m a longtime fan of Vandeweyer’s luscious, quavering vibraphone tone. Matsuno’s    guitar playing leaned spaceward, pushing the vibe into slightly psychy territory before Vandeweyer scattered detritus on the vibes and plunked at the objects with a slightly madcap frenzy. Schlichting’s baritone came across a bit bonky, in the Vandermarkian way—repeated one-note blasts—and it didn’t quite land for me, though it may have been a case of schnitzel brain. Distance, digestion and sonic subtlety don’t always align, but I’d gladly revisit a recording of this set if it ever emerges.

Phil Minton (voice)/ Carl Ludwig Hübsch (tuba, voice)

If the voice is the most human instrument, is the tuba the most non-human? Nah, probably French horn (which could explain its scarcity in jazz and improvised music). Anyway, this set was an audience favorite: full of super-dramatic vocal exchanges (sometimes through the tuba, sometimes direct) that conjured hilarious scenes of kids playing, parents arguing, animals cavorting. Lots of whistling too. Hübsch’s stage presence was pure jokester – a perfect compliment to Minton’s impeccable timing and split-second shifts of tone and emotion.

Hübsch & Minton.  Photo by Karl Wendelin
They leaned into the silliness in a way that deepened its natural, true profundity, and I couldn’t help thinking what a great intoduction to improvisation this would be for children. Hübsch danced with his face, further amplifying the set’s mini-dramas. Minton doesn’t do things with his voice that you couldn’t do, making the experience of watching him feel accessible, even communal. They touched on multiple registers, from faux military chant to quasi-religious sanctimony – and everything came off as an invitation: to enjoy, to laugh, to delight in awe. The invitations were accepted by all.

Turquoise Dream: Carlos “Zingaro” (violin)/ Marta Warelis (piano/ Marcelo dos Reis (acoustic guitar)/ Helena Espvall (cello)

Between sets at the Jazzgalerie, things feel casual—people chatting, drinking, stretching and carrying on—but once the music begins, the atmosphere snaps into place. Focus tightens the stage with a kind of reverent immediacy: you can hear a bar glass clink from 50 meters away. The first sound that struck me in this final set was Espvall’s cello – echoey, but not hollow; open, ringing. Later she played a flamenco-inflected solo that became the highlight of the set for me; it was full of all the flair and constrained madness that characterizes the rhythmic complexity and tension of that music for me. Compelling.

At one point someone’s empty glass rolled on the stone ground; Warelis heard it and mimicked the rolling with a few churns through a high-end piano ramble – playful, uncanny. Attacking two corks placed wedged in his guitar strings with mallets, dos Reis was significantly more vicious with his guitar than I had ever heard him. He strummed it the way a dog barks. After one particularly manic onslaught, he picked up both legs and rolled back in his seat. Espvall watched, wide-eyed, with the same combination of encouraging esteem and total captivation that the audience seemed to share. (Her glorious solo followed soon after.) [Wow, it’s pretty amazing to write things and then get sent photos that perfectly encapsulate what you’ve already written]

Espvall & dos Reis.  Photo by Karl Wendelin
Overall, this was an odd set to close the festival—it felt a little fierce and eerie—but what else can you expect from a legend of textural expansiveness like “Zingaro” in a band with a bunch of young sonic form-twisters? When the final tones drifted away, I was struck by the sheer skill on display throughout the weekend: that ability to create sensitive, brand-new music, at any moment, at the drop of a hat. It’s honestly still astonishing to me, after many decades of listening.

The dance party that followed was particularly memorable, Risser on flute and Stewart playing shot-glass percussion along with the DJs for quite some time. The 45th incarnation is right around the corner. You can have this dance.

Photo by author


Sunday, June 15, 2025

Louis Moholo-Moholo (1940 - 2025)


Photo by Peter Gannushkin


By Martin Schray

It’s difficult to imagine the situation for black musicians in South Africa in the 1960s today. Apartheid, the racist system of legal separation between blacks and whites, determined people’s lives, including art and music. Black and white musicians were not allowed to perform, rehearse, or travel together. Concerts in mixed ensembles were illegal. Politically charged music - such as African rhythms and free jazz - was considered “subversive” and many musicians were monitored by the state, their music banned or restricted. Black musicians needed special passes to move around their own country. International tours were hardly possible, and when they did happen, they were mainly for privileged white artists. Many black musicians therefore lived in poverty and had no professional platform for their art. Louis Moholo-Moholo had to deal with this reality at the beginning of his musical career, which is why he and his band, the Blue Notes, decided to leave the country in order to be able to perform freely. It was not until a little over 40 years later that he returned to his homeland, where he has now passed away at the age of 85.

Tebogo Louis Moholo-Moholo grew up in a township in Cape Town. In the vibrant jazz scene of this neighborhood, music became a place of expression, resistance, but also joy and hope. There, Moholo-Moholo met Dollar Brand (Abdullah Ibrahim), among others, and was a co-founder of The Blue Notes, a band that soon became the artistic spearhead of South African modern jazz. The Blue Notes consisted of black and white musicians, which was forbidden. Public performances were therefore dangerous, their music, which opposed restriction and racial segregation, was increasingly seen as provocative. In 1964, the band fled into exile in Europe, officially under the pretext of participating in the Antibes Jazz Festival in France. In reality, it was an escape from censorship, police surveillance, and oppression by the apartheid state. From South Africa, they traveled via France to London, where they sought and ultimately found asylum. “We played because we wanted to live - and we lived because we could play,” the drummer said in retrospect about this time.

Soon, Moholo-Moholo became part of the British free jazz scene, playing with Chris McGregor and his Brotherhood of Breath, with Dudu Pukwana, Evan Parker, Keith Tippett, and many others. He formed a particularly close musical friendship with Irène Schweizer, the Swiss pianist. In Europe, he played with all the important free jazz musicians, and several of his recordings with the West German FMP label are considered classics. His playing was explosive yet melodic, rhythmically rooted in African tradition but open to anything experimental. He combined township grooves with European avant-garde jazz - a musical act of decolonization. Logically, however, he was never “just a musician.” He understood his art as a political act, which was almost inevitable given his background. Apartheid, exile, the loss of his homeland – all of this resonated in his music. He refused to provide “entertainment”. His concerts were acoustic manifestos - loud, raw, demanding. In 2004, he received the Order of Ikhamanga in Silver, one of South Africa’s highest cultural honors, and in 2005, after more than 40 years in exile, he returned to Cape Town on a permanent basis. There, he taught, played with young musicians, and continued to fight for cultural and social justice.

Louis Moholo-Moholo was at home in all kinds of formations, and his characteristic drumming always enriched any group he played with. This makes it difficult to single out any particular albums from his extensive oeuvre. However, the first two Blue Notes albums, Blue Notes for Mongezi (Ogun, 1976) and Blue Notes in Concert Vol.1 (Ogun, 1978) are definite must haves. Almost everything he published on FMP is outstanding: The Nearer The Bone, The Sweater the Meat (FMP, 1979) and Opened, But Hardly Touched (FMP, 1981) with Peter Brötzmann on saxophones and clarinet and fellow expat Harry Miller on bass, are spectacular albums and only due to Miller’s untimely death there are just these two recordings by this trio. In general, Moholo-Moholo was great in duos with pianists - with his friend Irène Schweizer on their self titled album (Intakt, 1987), which includes “Free Mandela!“ and “Angel“, signature compositions of the two. In this context one must also mention No Gossip (FMP, 1982), a piano duo recording with Keith Tippett, and Remembrance (FMP, 1989) with the great Cecil Taylor. Messer (FMP, 1976) and Tuned Boots (FMP 1978), his trios with Irène Schweizer and Rüdiger Carl on saxophone, must not be forgotten either. A personal favorite of mine is Tern (FMP, 1983), his trio with Keith Tippett and Larry Stabbins on saxophone. But what is more, he was a great bandleader as well. Among his many recordings, Spirits Rejoice! (Ogun, 1978) certainly stands out. It’s his octet album with Harry Miller and John Dyani on bass, Keith Tippett on piano, Evan Parker on saxophone, Kenny Wheeler on trumpet, and Radu Malfatti and Nick Evans on trombone - a killer lineup that delivers everything it promises. A perfect example of his interest in teaming up with younger musicians is his quintet Five Blokes with Alexander Hawkins on piano, John Edwards on bass, and Jason Yarde and Shabaka Hutchings on saxes. Uplift the People (Ogun, 2018) is just a great album.

On June, 13th, the exceptional man died after a long illness. With this extraordinary drummer the last surviving member of the legendary Blue Notes has died. So, this also marks the end of a musical era. “Louis was more than a pioneering musician - he was a mentor and a friend. As a drummer, composer, and fearless voice for artistic freedom, Louis inspired generations through his groundbreaking contributions to South African and global jazz,“ the Moholo-Moholo family said in a statement.

“Spirits Rejoice!” the family concluded - a reference to the legendary octet album and a tribute to a life that has linked music and political resistance like few others. May he rest in peace.

Watch Louis Moholo-Moholo live with Irène Schweizer at the 29th outfit of the Unlimited Festival in Wels/Austria in 2015:

Wednesday, June 4, 2025

Maggie Nicols and Geoff Eales - Beautiful Love (33 Jazz records, 2025)

By Sammy Stein

Maggie Nicols has long expressed her ambition to record an album of jazz standards, despite her success in various musical areas. As a leading improvisational vocalist, she has captivated audiences for many years. Active since the 1960s, she has been at the forefront of the international free music scene, collaborating with groups such as the Spontaneous Music Ensemble, Feminist Improvising Groups, and Noisy Women, as well as with renowned artists like Irene Schweizer and Julie Tippetts. In the 1960s, Maggie began singing jazz standards alongside the late, great bebop pioneer, pianist Dennis Rose. This aspect of her musical repertoire may not be widely recognized, but her desire to record an album of standards hinges on finding a pianist capable of interpreting her free, improvisational style while also respecting the musicality of the original compositions.

Such a pianist was found in the form of Geoff Eales.

Eales is a pianist with a diverse career. In 1981, he was awarded a PhD in classical music at Cardiff University. He is an ex-member of the BBC Big Band and, as a session musician, has worked with many of the world’s most prominent artists, including Henry Mancini, Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Dame Shirley Bassey. As a leader, he has 15 critically acclaimed jazz albums to his name.

On Beautiful Love, Maggie and Geoff have teamed with bassist Ashley John Long and drummer Sophie Alloway. Long is an award-winning virtuoso double bass player and composer active in a diverse range of styles including jazz, free improvisation, early and contemporary chamber music, and as a soloist. Long has performed and recorded internationally with many of the UK’s leading musicians and has premiered numerous works for solo double bass.

Alloway is a sought-after drummer who has performed with artists including Jason Rebello, Mornington Lockett, Yazz Ahmed, Laurence Cottle, and Roots Manuva. She is a member of the fusion band Lydian Collective and the Geoff Eales Trio and recently played drums for the finalists at the BBC Young Jazz Musicians Awards at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, which was broadcast on BBC TV.

For Nicols, finding the right people to accompany her standards was paramount, but on Beautiful Love she proves the wait was worth it.

The album is released on 33 Jazz records, and producer Paul Jolly says, “I have known Maggie since the late 1960s and have long understood her desire to record an album of ‘standard’ material. Since launching ‘33’ in the 1980s, it’s also been an ambition of mine to help fulfil this wish.”

From the outset, the album is a contrast of sounds, from Eales’s beautiful opening on ‘All Blues’ and Nicol’s equally beautiful overarching vocals that enter after the 18 th bar, accompanied by a change into blues pattern phrasing and emphasis. This ensemble turns the number into a version they interpret and own. There is a stonking bass solo, and Nicol’s vocals interpret this number in a way only she can, with dives into chest voice, rises into mezzo, and a clarity in the lyrics that conveys her message.

Arlen's ‘Come Rain or Come Shine’ is given a twist (don’t expect a Don Costa arrangement for Sinatra like in the 1960s). Here, the song is given its true power in a heart-wrenching, emotive outpouring where Nicols' voice flies as free as an eagle, settling with the lyrics when necessary but emphasizing feeling, which Eales picks up and adds to with flourishes and delicate phrasing of his own in perfect counterbalance.

On ‘How My Heart Sings,’ there is a flow to the number, with Eales’s intricate phrases adding texture, and an alluring bass solo adding depth to the middle section. Nicols uses Zindars’s composition much the way Evans did, adding her intuitive take to the phrasing and making it her own, while never losing respect for the original. The vocal lines in the third phase are an absolute delight.

On ‘Peace Piece/Some Other Time’, the ensemble adds a touch of magic. Bernstein would have approved – and perhaps Mr Evans too, as Nicols interprets the vocals and Eales the music in a meld of classical-influenced stylisation and improvised vocals. The song might be familiar as one of the musical numbers from the Betty Comden/Leonard Berstein/Adolph Green ‘On The Town,’ first produced on Broadway in 1944 and later made famous by Bill Evans in his 1968 recording, and Evans’s composition ‘Peace/Piece’ is also arranged in this release. The two are entwined and interspersed with lyrics from ‘If I Must Die’ by the late Palestinian poet Refaat Alareer and ‘Let There Be Peace’ by Eales.

It begins with, dynamic piano from Eales before Nicols enters with improvised vocals across the top. The delivery is emotive, with Nicol’s clear diction of the meaningful poetry lines, and her switch from spoken word, improvised vocal lines, and a warm standard rendition of ‘Some Other Time.’ Eales’s piano rises and falls with just the right nuances to underpin the vocal improvisation.

‘Turn Out The Stars’ begins as a gorgeous, bonkers rendition of the number, as Nicols ventures into the profound nature of the song and lyrics and descends from screams into gentle, soft wonderings. As she sings the lyrics ‘Turn out the stars, Turn out the stars, Let eternal darkness hide me, If I can't have you beside me, Put out their fires….Stop the ocean's roar, Don't let the rivers run, Let me hear no more, The wondrous music of a skylark in the sun, Let it be done, the sense of despair is clear.

Kern’s ‘Yesterdays’ features Nicols’ instrumental use of her voice, with spiritual overtones as she speaks softly in other tongues, as if inviting spirits alongside before an improvised, melodic tumbling kaleidoscope of visionary ideas. Eales's gorgeously phrased lines contrast perfectly with Nicols’ vocals that veer between harmonious and ethereal.

‘Funny Valentine’ is stunning here, as is Wood’s ‘My One and Only Love’, which is delivered with the tenderness of a lover’s caress.

‘Beautiful Love’ which ends the album, is a happy, upbeat number with lyrics as clear as daylight. A gentle way to finish a superb album.

On ‘Beautiful Love’, Maggie Nicols shows the world her talents on so many levels. When an artist waits for the right time, and the right people to be in the right place, they know when everything has come together, and on this album, Nicols, with Eales, Long, and Alloway, has found the right time, place, and people. The album is beautiful. Sometimes, a reviewer has to be honest and say there are no words to adequately describe the meaning, nuances, and beauty in music, and this is one of those occasions.

Nicols never once loses her identity, with improvisation often in full flow, or simmering below the surface, to erupt in the sweetest of forms. The numbers are well-chosen because their arrangements allow plenty of room for pure or improvised delivery, and whatever Nicols does, the musicians are more than able to react and support.

What is striking is the homage this musician, known for improvisation, pays to the original numbers and the respect shown for their composition.

Yet, Nicols manages to insert her powerful, dexterous, emotive delivery when she chooses, proving that good music interpreted by musicians of this caliber can always produce more than what is written.

Nicols waited a long time to create this album, and with her collaborators, she has achieved something well worth the wait. She says of the record, “I’m singing my life, past present, and unknown future, through song, storytelling, and moments of free spontaneity. Inspired by the wonderful musicians on this recording. Geoff’s piano playing, in particular, is sublime. He feels every note with skill, fluency, and soulful heart.”

Eales comments, “If you like your music to be full of joy, sadness, passion, adventure, and surprise, then this album is definitely for you."

The album brings together the best of jazz music, from traditional homage to standard, known melodies, to improvised, sprinkles of innovation and originality that are intrinsic to the artists involved.

A great recording and one that should be in everyone’s collection.

Out on 33 Jazz Records with a launch at London’s Café Oto on June 25 th

Event listings ← Cafe OTO

Friday, April 25, 2025

Spirits Calling – an Interview with Hamid Drake


Hamid Drake at Sant'Anna Arresi 2020. Photo by Petra Cvelbar

By David Cristol

Hamid Drake, who turns 70 on August 3, remains one of the busiest drummers on the improvised / free jazz scene, ever on the road and with album credits in excess of 500. Born in Louisiana and raised in Chicago, he has played with everyone from Akira Sakata to Thurston Moore, and recently payed tribute to trumpeter Don Cherry*, whom he encountered and lived with early on in his itinerary. Drake also put up a band together in celebration of Alice Coltrane, another major influence. The master percussionist has forged a unique path, with a deeply spiritual approach. His style is informed not only by US and European jazz but also by traditions from Africa, India, Persia and more. Hamid Drake can provide a monster groove, play abstract or meditative and still sound like himself.

Your first credited recording – as Hank Drake – is with the Fred Anderson Quintet, “Another Place” in 1978.

Hamid Drake – Yes, it was at the Moers Music festival, and the group also had George Lewis on trombone. I later changed my name to Hamid, for religious reasons. I grew up around Fred Anderson and his three sons, Kevin, Eugene and Michael. I would see Fred play his saxophone when I was very young.

Can you describe your first encounters with music and the years prior to becoming a professional musician?

Foday Musa Suso, Joe Thomas, Adam Rudolph
and Hamid Drake, 1977
My first encounter with music was probably in church. Although not from a family of musicians, there was always music around me, at home and outside. In school I joined the stage band. I had a snare drum and a bass drum. It wasn't a choice, I didn't want to play drums, I wanted to play trombone. Fortunately, there was a drum instructor who helped me develop a strong liking then love for the drums. Later my parents bought me a small drum set so I was able to shift to the drum set but in the stage band it was just practicing the snare drum and the big bass drums. We were doing marching music mostly, boom-kak, boom-kak, boom-kak, in the Chicago area. I never went to music school per se but in my first year of college I studied piano with one of the teachers for a while. I had private teachers and learned on my own. I was never a resident of an established music conservatory.

When did you first come to Europe?

That was with Fred Anderson at the Moers Festival where that first album was recorded. The second time was with [percussionist] Adam Rudolph. We moved to Sweden to live with Don Cherry. Don had come to Chicago to be on one of the first records I did, with Mandingo Griot Society [Flying Fish, 1978]. Adam had brought Don to Chicago to do the recording with us. After that, Don invited me and my family and Adam Rudolph to Sweden to stay with him and his family which was Moki Cherry, Neneh Cherry and Eagle-Eye Cherry. They had a place in the countryside in the SkÃ¥ne region, an old schoolhouse that they converted into their home. A few months after he guested on our record, he just invited us. I borrowed some money from my mother for the plane tickets on Icelandic Air. It was a one-way ticket because we didn't know when we would return. We stayed there for about five months. It was an extraordinary experience, being with Don every day and with Moki, who’s a very important figure also. We were very young. Neneh was maybe 15 or 16 at the time and Eagle-Eye probably 12 years old.

In January 2025, you opened the Sons d’Hiver festival with a tribute to Don Cherry, bringing things full circle.

Yes. “Mu” First part and Second part [BYG-Actuel] are very important recordings for me. I used to have those LPs as part of my record collection. Those recordings are monumental because I was very much into Ed Blackwell. Fred Anderson was the one who turned me on to Blackwell. I liked how Ed combined the African rhythms with his approach to swing and jazz, his polyrhythms and how he used the cowbell. When he would take solos, he would incorporate the cowbell into his technique. I was also into Max Roach, Art Taylor and Elvin Jones, and a lot of funk, R&B and rock drummers too. But for the jazz world, I would say Ed Blackwell was my greatest influence. The Don Cherry tribute in Paris was with Moor Mother, the poet from the United States who's a member of Irreversible Entanglements, and my friend and associate Pasquale Mirra with whom we have a new duo album out [on the Italian label Parco della Musica] . Don is now one of the ancestors. We chose to pay tribute to him because of his music and because he's one of the people who can inspire and help us even though he's not in the physical life anymore. Spiritually he's still very much alive and active.

Speaking of spirituality, the album you made with Adam Rudolph and Pharoah Sanders is called “Spirits” [Meta, 2000].

I’m surprised that you know about that recording! That's from Montreal, and the three of us, Adam, Pharoah and myself, put the recording out ourselves. We each contributed a certain amount of money to have it done. When Pharoah listened to the recording of the concert, he wanted to release it. It features some of his best playing in my opinion. He plays continuously on it. The years I toured with Pharoah were a great learning experience. He was a gracious person and musician. I first met him through Bill Laswell, when Bill called me in to do the Pharoah album “Message from Home” in the mid-90s. When we did that record, Pharoah was easygoing, we immediately hit it off. I owe that to Bill, who brought us together.

Herbie Hancock guested on Mandingo’s 1984 album “Watto Sitta” and the next year you were on Hancock’s electro-global record “Sound System”.

Those things came about because Herbie and Suso had been doing duet concerts, piano and kora. That was all through Laswell because of his connection with Herbie Hancock. I have a story about Bill. We were in a taxi coming back from the studio or eating something, and Bill had this big shoulder bag on him and said, “man, you won't believe what I have here in this bag” – and he had the two-inch reels of Miles Davis’ music that he was getting ready to remix. It was like gold and platinum in his shoulder bag. I like the remixes he has done, Miles, Bob Marley and Alice Coltrane’s album with Santana. Bill fueled my further esteem of Alice Coltrane, because there were books she had written that I wasn't familiar with, and Bill gave me the complete collection. We were in the studio and he said “hey Hamid, I want you to have these” . It's a several volumes set of her writings. It's about her experiences through meditation, her teachings and everything. Alice had personally given these books to Bill.

You have worked with Bill Laswell a lot, live and in the studio.

The list of recordings and concerts that I've been involved with Bill is very long, I only realized that recently. A lot of those things escape you. You're doing things and then only later realize the extent of it. Laswell would call me and bring me from Chicago to New York to go into the studio, just Bill, myself and keyboard player Bernie Worrell from Parliament-Funkadelic, we would record a lot of rhythm tracks, make up all these grooves and Bill would use them on different recordings. He is very much like an alchemist. 

 

Aiyb Dieng, Bill Laswell, Hamid Drake in 2000. Photo by Ziga Koritnik.

Another key partnership is with Adam Rudolph.

My relationship with Adam goes back a long way. We met when we were 14 or 15 years old in a place called Frank's Drum Shop in Chicago. Adam was playing congas, and convinced me to buy a conga. I started studying congas with the teacher that he was studying with. We were playing with a lot of different musicians in and around Chicago and particularly with Fred Anderson. After he graduated from college he went to Ghana to study drumming with the Ewe people and there he met Foday Musa Suso, the kora player from Gambia, who was part of a project at the University of Accra. They were bringing young griots from different parts of Africa to teach. Suso wanted to come to the United States, so they decided to go back to Chicago and form a group together, playing traditional Mandingo music that would include rhythms and grooves from the United States and the Caribbean. On September 7th, 1977, Suso and Adam arrived in Chicago. I remember the date somehow because I met Suso the day after they arrived. Adam and I had been writing to each other all the time, me being in Chicago, him in Ghana. That's when people were writing letters. We started Mandingo Griot Society. We began looking for a bass player and quickly found the one we wanted to be in the group, Joe Thomas. The relationship with Adam is one of my most important ones, it’s music and also discovery of books, friendship, tai-chi, all sorts of things. Our families knew each other, I knew his mom and dad and brothers, he knew my mother. I’ve learned a lot from him. He's a great composer and musician, teacher and writer too – not only music but of literature. He’s also a great organizer who brings musicians together to create and fulfill his vision.

How did you start playing the frame drum?

Photo by Petra Cvelbar
I first heard the frame drum with a record from the oud master from Nubia, Hamza El Din, “Escalay” [Nonesuch, 1971]. Side one was him playing oud and singing, and side two was him playing the frame drum and singing. When I first heard him playing the frame drum, I immediately fell in love with it. I had become friends with a musician who had moved back to Chicago, Raphael Donald Garrett. He played bass, but also saxophone and clarinet. He's featured on some of Coltrane's recordings. On those records his name is simply Donald Garrett. Later he changed it to Raphael Donald Garrett. We had a trio with Raphael, myself, and multi-reeds player Douglas Ewart. Raphael knew I was interested in the frame drum, so he gave me my first one, that he had purchased when living in Turkey. I was listening to recordings and just kind of messing around on it. But then I met Hamza El Din at the Bear Mountain World Folk Music Festival in upstate New York, and he showed me some of my first technique on the instrument. I also met two musicians from Turkey, saxophone player Ismet Siral and ney and oud player Haci Tekbilek. This was at the Creative Music Studios in Woodstock where I was with Mandingo Griot Society. Ismet and Haci showed me some further technique on the frame drum, and from there I started to practice, practice more and develop my own way. But a lot of style that I play comes out of Hamza El Din, and the Moroccan approach to bandir. What also contributed to my learning was being involved in a mystical Sufi order from Turkey called the Halveti-Jerrahi, as the frame drum was involved in the order’s ceremonies.

Did you spend time in Africa and study music there?

Sure, I went to Africa several times. I didn’t study with teachers per se, except for a few djembe players. I did study congas, that was more from the Afro-Cuban tradition. Adam Rudolph was always studying different drumming traditions, and we would listen to records of music from Africa and so forth. Just by listening and experimenting, that approach kind of came into my style of playing. I was around a lot of djembe players in Chicago because there was a lot of music there: African dance ensembles, most particularly one called Muntu. They were all African-Americans, and the drummers had studied djembe with master Ladji Camara from Senegal. I would listen to them a lot and listen to the phrasing. My style developed from that. I studied Indian tablas, that later contributed to my approach of rhythmic style and definition. The rhythm also comes from India. 

Alexander Hawkins & Hamid Drake. Photo by Petra Cvelbar.
 Are you aware that you have around 530 record credits to this day? 


Man, that's a lot of recordings. There's probably more because some guys who come to concerts always record like archivists and then trade amongst each other. Many of the records I did aren't available anymore. I have probably less than 100 of them. I used to collect my albums but moved around so much they ended up away from me. I'm sure somebody has them all! There was one recording I really wanted to get a copy of but the guy who did it, Leo Krumpholz, moved to England. He had a venue in Chicago called South End Music Works and he recorded it, that was a monumental concert with Don Cherry and Raphael Donald Garrett on bass. I'm not sure how to get a hold of Leo. Don also wanted a copy of that recording. It was in the late 80s, early 90s. Drummer Steve McCall had just moved back to Chicago and came to that concert. I was a little nervous because he was in the audience.

In 2022, you started a band to tour with in homage to Alice Coltrane.

I had long wanted to honor Alice Coltrane, Turiya. It was put together by Ludmilla Faccenda [Drake’s manager] and myself and we wanted to do it in a unique sort of way, not play the compositions as she played them on her records. We wanted to expand on her art and message. That's why we included dance and spoken word, with Ndoho Ange from Paris and originally from Guadeloupe, and Jan Bang, the electronic musician from Norway, Pasquale Mirra on vibraphone and Jamie Saft on piano, organ and Fender Rhodes. The first incarnation had Joshua Abrams on bass and Thomas de Pourquery on sax and vocals. We wanted to dig deep into the spirit of Alice Coltrane. We did some of her compositions in our own improvisational way. I don't know if I've ever mentioned this to Pasquale, but some of Alice Coltrane's early recordings are with a vibraphone player. We wanted to tap into what Turiya itself deals with, the Sanskrit word which represents the fourth dimension of consciousness. Having met her a few times, her spirit and vibration and musical outlook had a big impact on me, I liked her whole philosophy. There's a very good biography about her called “Translinear light”.

Will there be a recording of that project?

It's difficult to organize because there’s quite a few people involved. Ludmilla has done almost a miracle, just the number of concerts that we have done, bringing that many people on stage, some of them from the United States. It's a big expense moving around about seven people. We'll see what happens in the future. Turiya hasn't been put to sleep yet! 

Michel Portal, Hamid Drake and Jim Black. Toulouse, 2012. Photo by Emmanuel Deckert
You used samples of John Coltrane's albums “Om” and “Cosmic Music” which are seldom spoken of by critics.

Totally seldom spoken of! I find them incredible. There's a segment on “Cosmic Music”, where Jan recorded the first vocal portion of John Coltrane reciting, «May there be peace and love and perfection throughout all creation, O God” . And then we felt it was really important that Jamie do his own rendition of the composition “The Sun”. The album “Cosmic Music”, was very influential for me, especially that piece, “The Sun”, because it featured Alice Coltrane in a whole other way. She's playing totally solo, but John Coltrane starts it off with this invocation. And Alice comes in with the solo playing. It's a beautiful composition. The way that Jamie handles that composition is profound and shows his extreme understanding of not only jazz but also Western classical music. Ludmilla was the one who coined the project “Honoring Alice Coltrane”. Something of the people you honor has come inside of you, and you want to express your gratitude. Before the Turiya tribute, there was Indigenous Mind, a trio with Josh Abrams on bass and Jason Adasiewicz on vibraphone. We did a few Alice Coltrane songs as a trio.

Another pianist you played with was Irène Schweizer. You took part in the series of duos with drummers that she did.


Irene Schweizer and Hamid Drake in Nickelsdorf 2019. Photo by Petra Cvelbar

Yes, I feel very honored by that. A few months ago, there was a tribute to Irène Schweizer in Zürich. I was invited along with some of the other drummers that she had recorded with. She was a drummer who moved to piano. You can really hear that in her playing. We played together a few times and one of the most memorable is probably the trio we had with Fred Anderson. I think it was at Willisau, and it got released. The last concert in Nickelsdorf was also really special. I spoke with her partner and she communicated to me how special that concert in Nickelsdorf was for Irène. She was starting to decline a little bit then, but once she got on stage she was fantastic. I'm very happy that it was released. The first time we met, she was one of the organizers of the Taktlos festival in Switzerland. 

But I have to say, a lot of the European musicians that I was able to meet and eventually play with, came through Peter Brötzmann. He's the one who introduced me to a lot of them. I was playing around Europe with him, William Parker and Kondo and then in a trio with William and in other settings, the Chicago Tentet and so on. Through Peter I had the opportunity to meet a lot of the European improvisers. There was a German festival which name slips my mind now, that Jost Gebers used to do, where Peter and I played almost every year. Our relationship started in late 1987, early ‘88. “The Dried Rat-Dog” recording happened after he had already been coming to Chicago for a couple of years. We were doing duet concerts. Bill Laswell and Peter were very close too. They did a lot of things together and had that group Last Exit with Sonny Sharrock and Ronald Shannon Jackson which I got to see once in Chicago.

You're an associate of some of the hardest blowing musicians, but the way you play has a warmth and benevolence to it.

In a way, that's true. Brötzmann, when we first played together, allowed me to play a lot of different ways, not just hard and strong. For me, that approach wouldn't have taken the music to other dimensions. The way he played was so open, he allowed me to bring the things that I had studied into the situation. Instead of me just playing free all the time, I could do grooves, I could swing, play reggae, play open, do many different things. And that also gave another bent to his playing because he had maybe a wider palette to work with. He was throwing a lot of different things my way. I could have played just hard all the time, but that's not what moved me. When you play with Peter and you really listen to him, there's a lot of subtlety to his playing. Sometimes when you first listen you think it's just really hard playing but no, there's a lot of subtlety there. Peter loved ballads and standards and he found a way to incorporate that into his approach and the results are beautiful and mysterious. He did it in a way that only he could have done. A lot of saxophonists are trying to sound like him but they don't feel like him and they don't think like him. Peter was a big thinker and he had very deep emotions. And he was just trying to be himself.

The “Soldier of the Road” documentary about Brötzmann explains that a lot of what he projects in his playing comes from being German and the whole history and trauma comes through.

He would talk about that a lot. Him and Peter Kowald, they were similar in that way. The last time that Brötzmann went to Israel and played at Assif Tsahar’s venue, he gave a talk after the concert, like a huge apology to the people there about what happened with the Holocaust. I think that's a difficult thing to do. His father, as you probably know, was conscripted into the German army during World War II, kind of forced to be a member of the Nazi army, and was captured by the Russians and put in a prisoner of war camp. When he came back home from the war, it was very difficult. Peter told stories about him and his mother having to walk a long distance in cold weather just to get bread and a couple pieces of slabs of bacon to eat. 

Ken Vandermark, Chad Taylor, Hamid Drake, Peter Brötzmann. Cankarjev Dom, Slovenia 2013. Photo by Petra Cvelbar
 Some of his last recordings are with you and one was live in Berlin.

Yeah, live in Berlin with Majid Bekkas. Mokhtar Ghania couldn't make it so we asked Majid. We did another one with Mokhtar before, and with Mahmoud also, Mokhtar's brother. Peter loved Gnawa music, he loved the guembri. We toured Morocco with Majid. For the most part the response from the audience was very good. Some of the Moroccans didn't quite understand where Peter was coming from but they appreciated him and his artistry and his attempt to do something with a sound they were more familiar with. 

Jazzfest Berlin 2022. Photo by Dawid Laskowski

 You were the first artist to release an album on French label RogueArt, and are featured on 15 of their releases. The three Bindu albums have you as the leader. You’re heard with a wide variety of musicians on the label, from Nicole Mitchell to Steve Swell.

The first record is called “Bindu”, it's compositions that the musicians could freely improvise with, we had some established introductions but then we would develop from there. Another one was “Reggaeology” [after “Blissful” that came out in 2008 and was the second of three Bindu albums] which was jazz reggae, or reggae as played by jazzmen. I used to be in a group in Chicago called Third Eye, another one called Birds of a Feather, and they were both jazz reggae groups.

You are a regular presence at the Sons d’Hiver festival, with 32 sets since 2002. Each time with a different band or project, from the Pyramid Trio to Material, Indigo Trio, Kidd Jordan, Ernest Dawkins, Michel Portal and so on.

I had no idea there had been so many. Each concert was different and each was important. Playing with Michel Portal was amazing. The duet was one of Ludmilla's illuminations. Portal is unique and I’m grateful that happened. He's a genius in his own way, an ustad [master] . He moves through many different worlds, performing classical music, being on the improvised music scene, the straight-ahead jazz world, folk music too. In addition to saxophone and clarinet, he's a bandoneon player. He's from the Basque region and there's a lot from that tradition that he brings into his music. 

William Parker and Hamid Drake. Vision Festival 2013. Photo by Petra Cvelbar.
You have other connections to French musicians – flute player/singer Naïssam Jalal, bagpipe player Erwan Keravec, clarinet player Sylvain Kassap, pianist Eve Risser…

Eve Risser is an extraordinary musician. That big group she has with musicians from Africa is fantastic. She has a couple different versions of it [Red Desert Orchestra & Kogoba Basigui]. The percussionists, except for the drummer, are all women. The djembe player, the balafon player, all women. She chose the right pool together. I participated in a version of that group years ago, but not in the current one. I love the trio she has with drummer Edward Perraud who was in Thomas de Pourquery’s Supersonic.

What project would you like to set up if you had an unlimited budget and all the people you wanted?

Oh, wow [laughs, and pauses to think]! I would like to find a way to musically bring together all of these mystical traditions: Sufism, Tibetan Buddhism, mystical Christianity, mystical Judaism, shamanic… These ancient traditions that people have, and do a unified musical form with all of them, where they could blend together but also represent their own thing. There are people who practice several different mystical traditions and they hold multiple citizenships in those various sacred traditions. I’d like to do something like that with music, and that would have to also include dance and visual arts and spoken word. 

Skopje Jazz Festival 2022. Photo by Petra Cvelbar
 What are your sources of inspiration, do you get ideas from what you see around the world, and other artforms?

One of our biggest senses is visual, right? My music teacher Eric Evans taught me about the principles of the arts, showed me that the same principles govern all artforms, whether it’s music, painting, poetry. There's depth, space, color, negative and positive space. Eric taught music through the medium of visual arts, by demonstrating those principles on the visual palette and then relating it to music and sound. To me all the arts are related, they're just different modalities of the one creative expression. A lot of musicians speak about synesthesia, the ability to see the sounds as shapes and colors. William Parker speaks about that in relationship with what might relate to the four strings on the acoustic bass, for instance. Max Roach talked about that in his relationship to sound on the drums, and I’m sure a lot of musicians see and feel that way. I would assume that even people who are blind, they might experience colors with their inner vision. It's difficult for us to imagine. All the arts are reflective of each other, they all have a part of the other arts in their thing – dancers experience rhythm, sound, colors too, space division just like we have in the visual arts, music and writing. I don't think about those things consciously when I'm playing, it just comes intuitively. Thinking about them consciously would get in the way of the natural creative process. But those things are always bouncing in front of me somehow. I'm not trying to determine whether this should be here, that should be there. That goes into the thought creation part of the music, but during the actual playing those things come naturally on their own.

How about the Heart Trio [Aum Fidelity, 2024]?

William Parker introduced me to Cooper-Moore. And of course, it was Peter Brötzmann who brought William and I together. William and I knew about each other before meeting, but had never met or played together. When Peter wanted to form Die like a Dog he brought William and I together with Toshinori Kondo on trumpet. That's when my relationship with William started and it continued from there. William introduced me to a lot of the New York musicians on the particular scene that he was involved in. Cooper-Moore was one of those people. He's an incredible guy, instrument maker, piano player, historian, storyteller, the whole gamut, he's got it. We had quartets and trios together. He’s a scholar on the banjo and other folk instruments from the Southern part of the United States, which also have origins in Africa. Last quartet tour we did was William, Cooper-Moore, James Brandon Lewis and myself. Cooper-Moore and William are kind of responsible for guiding James Brandon Lewis into the music. The Heart Trio is special because we're playing all kinds of acoustic instruments. I play some drum set and frame drum. William is playing the guembri and reeds, and Cooper-Moore is playing his own self-created banjo, harp and so forth. It is different from In Order to Survive, another group the three of us play in together. In the Heart Trio Cooper-Moore is not playing any piano. Same guy, completely different music.

How did the album with Jamie Saft around the music of Thelonious Monk happen?

With bass player Brad Jones, we had played together in Jamie Saft’ New Zion Trio, and both were also part of the tribute to Alice Coltrane. I met Jamie when I was working with Bill Laswell and Jamie was working with John Zorn. Laswell and Zorn have a long relationship – they're like two opponents in a way but always come back together. I played in PainKiller with Mike Patton, Bill and Zorn for a minute. I had known Zorn for a few years before playing with him. Jamie had a very thorough relationship with Zorn. I think it's been some time since they've done something together, but they used to be like brothers from another mother, always together doing stuff. Jamie probably helped to develop Zorn's music to some extent and Zorn helped to develop Jamie's music. The Monk album was Jamie's idea. He wanted to do a tribute to Monk as a trio. And he wanted to do it without saxophone because he felt that could give it more openness and brevity. We're playing the tunes but it's Jamie's arrangement of the tunes and there's a very open dimension to how we approach the music. We went to a very good studio in Milano and the engineer really took his time the way he set up every microphone and everything. We would do several takes and listen back. He had a real precision to how he recorded it.

You swing pretty hard on it.

My foundation is in more straight-ahead music and it was later that I moved into the more free-flowing stuff. But on this recording, you don't just keep the beat, you're always pushing the music forward. A lot of the jazz drummers I admire, that's what they did too. They would keep time, of course, they believed in supporting the music but they also had the melodic approach, and the way they supported the music was by being true to themselves. They were playing in a melodic way when supporting the other musicians. Roy Haynes was great at that, Art Taylor and Max Roach as well but Max had a different approach because of his position as a leader. Elvin Jones was always doing that as well. When you listen to them, you see how perhaps they're the ones that are really in control of the music. It's like the drums are singing. You can just focus on them and listen to what they do. There are a few records with Fred Anderson. One is called “The Milwaukee Tapes”. That's a very early recording, I think the second one I did with Fred. Me and the bass player are playing pretty much straight-ahead... There's another recording with Harrison Bankhead on bass and Jim Baker, a pianist from Chicago, “Birdhouse”. We're taking Fred's tunes and playing them in a straight-ahead way, very strong swinging. But Pharoah Sanders, his music was swinging, you know. The years that I played with David Murray involved a lot of swinging and funk. Those were the things I was doing before I entered the so-called improvised music world. I say so-called because most musicians improvise in their own way. 

Moor Mother and Hamid Drake. Sons D'Hivers 2025. Photo © m.rodrigues
Do you play in a lot of contexts where the music is written?

Sure. You follow that. But people always gave me the freedom to do my own personal interpretation.

When playing, you seem to be entering a state of trance, closing your eyes and connecting to the pulse or heart of the music. Can you make that work with something that is pre-planned?

The intention is always the same, that is to try and serve the music to the best of my ability. There's not much difference whether it’s scripted or improvised. In whatever situation, you still have to be yourself. And if you're doing something that's scripted, even though you might think there's no room for you to add your own thing, you can't help but putting your spin on it, maybe only just little things here and there – always in service of the music.

Among your latest recordings we also find “Cosmic Waves” on the No Business label.

It's with Albert Beger, Ziv Taubenfeld and Shay Hazan. I’ve had an extensive relationship with Albert, met him through Assif Tsahar. The first recording I did with Albert was with William Parker. Ziv is originally from Israel but lives in Portugal. Bass player Shay was living in Amsterdam but had moved back to Israel. For a long time, Albert had wanted to bring the four of us together and do something. Albert knew that we were all going to be in Israel at that particular time so he brought us together and we did the recording, and also a concert at Assif Tsahar's venue. There should be another record coming out soon.

* at the Sons d’Hiver festival near Paris, with Moor Mother, Pasquale Mirra and Cosmic Ear.


Latest albums

  • Pasquale Mirra/Hamid Drake “Lhasa” (Parco della musica, 2025)
  • Jamie Saft trio “Plays Monk” (Oystertones, 2024)
  • William Parker “Heart Trio” (Aum Fidelity, 2024)
  • Beger/Taubenfeld/Hazan/Drake “Cosmic Waves” (No Business, 2024)
  • Natural Information Society “Since Time is Gravity” (Eremite, 2024)
  • Amaro Freitas “Y'Y” (Psychic Hotline, 2024)

Hamid Drake on RogueArt

https://roguart.com/artist/hamid-drake/1

Hamid Drake on Aum Fidelity

https://aumfidelity.com/collections/hamid-drake

Live

10 May
Luis Vicente & Hamid Drake
Amadora Jazz, Portugal

21 May
William Parker Circular Pyramid feat. Hamid Drake & Ava Mendoza with Celeste Dalla Porta “In the name of Rosa Parks”
Vicenza Jazz, Italy

22 May
William Parker Circular Pyramid feat. Hamid Drake & Ava Mendoza
Bologna, Italy

23 May
William Parker Circular Pyramid feat. Hamid Drake & Ava Mendoza 
Jazz Cerkno, Slovenia

4 June
Indigenous Mind (Hamid Drake, Daniel Carter, Cooper-Moore, Alfredo Colón, Melanie Dyer, William Parker)
Vision Festival, New York, USA

7 June
Healing Message from Time & Space (William Parker, Hamid Drake, Selendis, Aakash Mittal, Sula Spirit, Mixashawn, Frank London)
Vision Festival, New York, USA

13 June
Michiyo Yagi and Hamid Drake Duo with Wacław Zimpel
Jazztopad @ Lincoln Center , New York, USA

21 June
Percfestival, Laigueglia, Italy

29 June
Hamid Drake “Turiya: Honoring Alice Coltrane” with special guest James Brandon Lewis
“The night of the spiritual jazz”, Ravenna, Italy

6 July
Ava Mendoza/Brad Jones/Hamid Drake
Galeria Zé dos Bois, Lisbon, Portugal

1 August
Heart Trio
Jazz em Agosto, Lisbon, Portugal

14 August
Andreas Røysum/Joshua Abrams/Hamid Drake 
Oslo Jazz Festival, Norway

17 August
Duet with Pasquale Mirra
Musica sulle bocche, Jazz in Sardegna, Italy

3 October
Duet with Shabaka Hutchings
Riga, Latvia

1 November
With Kalle Kallima
Tampere Jazz Happening, Finland