28 JAZZTIMES SEPTEMBER 2019
might hear something different. So we
do it spontaneously every time. He sits
at the piano and says, ‘You play this
note, you play that note, you play that
note, you play the melody.’ And that’s
how he does it.”Obviously, this requires each musi-
cian to know Ibrahim’s compositions
thoroughly. That’s easier than it seems.
“He has a firm grasp on writing a
simple melody that just makes you want
to cry,” Guyton says. “And we just ask
him, ‘Oh my God, how do you think
of these things? That’s so simple!’ But
it has nothing to do with technique. It
has to do with life, and something that
touches your heart and soul.”
“He’s a perfectionist,” adds Andrae
Murchison, Ibrahim’s current trom-
bonist. “He loves to rehearse until it’s
as clean as it can be. But really, the gig
is musically pretty simple. At this point
it’s mostly ballads and everything is
slow, focused on sound.”
On The Balance, Ibrahim performs
alongside Murchison, Guyton, tenor
saxophonist Lance Bryant, baritone
saxophonist Marshall McDonald,
bassists Noah Jackson and Alec Dank-
worth, and drummer Will Terrill. Only
two of the album’s ten tracks, “Tonega-
wa” and “ZB2,” are new compositions,
and Ibrahim plays them solo. Ekaya
is featured on Monk’s “Skippy”; five
longtime staples of Ibrahim’s book,
including the title track; and “Jabula,” a
new variation on his 1969 composition
“Jabulani.”
Ekaya also plays on the enigmatic
“Dreamtime,” which Ibrahim premiered
with his trio in 2012 but still refers to as
a new piece. “‘Dreamtime’ is this idea
that everything is really a dream,” he
says. “The only reality is a dream. We see
this teacup; this cup was created because
somebody dreamed of the idea. But you
can’t see the dreamer—so maybe the cupThose who know Ibrahim are not so
measured regarding the honor. “I think
it’s way overdue,” Young says. “He
should have gotten it a long time ago.
Sometimes jazz gets viewed through
such a narrow lens, and it starts with
some of us jazz musicians who have
become more conservative than our re-
bellious predecessors. They were trying
to play some music that was not about
conformity, that was about expression
that society itself would not allow.
Abdullah’s music can represent a quiet
protest, it can represent a revolution,
and it can represent a block party, all at
the same time.”
“He’s like a father figure; he’s become
that for all of us,” Murchison says.
“It’s not planned, like we’re trying to
be like him, but the way he leads by
example, that stuff just rubs off on you
subconsciously. You can hear it in his
music; it’s a reflection of him. You hear
the compassion and sincerity, the high
class. The dignity.” JTis an illusion, still just part of the dream.
This is the principle of the music also:
illusion and reality.”Notwithstanding his long res-
idency in America, Ibrahim has
spent much of his life wandering the
world as an exile from his homeland.
Today he maintains a house in South
Africa, but primarily lives outside of
Munich, where his fiancée is from.
(Benjamin died in 2013.) What does
it mean, then, to receive the highest
available accolade for a jazz musician in
the United States?
“It’s stunning,” he says, with char-
acteristic grace. “It’s almost like I’m
still trying to fathom what it is. When
arriving here and seeing all this, it real-
ly is an incredible accolade that I gladly
accept. But I also understand that it’s a
beacon in the road that we should not
stop at. It should act as an incentive
for us to work harder to achieve our
perfection.”Ŭ.KMGQWTKNNWUVTKQWU
RQGV4WOKUC[U
VJGTGũUQPN[QPG
UQWPF'XGT[VJKPI
GNUGKUCPGEJQŭ
GABRIELBERTOGG