Sean Jones Reflects on Half a Century Ago

Last night in Herbst Theatre San Francisco Performances presented the final program in its Great Artists and Ensembles Series entitled Dizzy Spellz. Jazz trumpeter Sean Jones led a quartet whose other members were Alex Brown on piano, Kris Funn on bass, and Mark Whitfield, Jr. on drums. They were joined by turntablist Wendel Patrick and Jones’ wife Brinae Ali, who served as narrator, vocalist, and tap dancer. The narration was basically a reflection on the black experience during the third quarter of the twentieth century, a time of significant progress for equal rights set in a wider turbulent context of social unrest.

The title of the program was basically a nod to another jazz trumpeter, Dizzy Gillespie. Gillespie was one of the most inventive of the jazz musicians. He deserves credit as a “founding father” of bebop; but he subsequently directed his inventiveness to other genres, including both Latin and African influences. He was represented in last night’s program by two major Gillespie creations. “Swing Low, Sweet Cadillac” was first recorded with saxophonist James Moody. In its original version it presented Gillespie at his most African, but that context was elided in last night’s performance. The other “Gillespie classic” was “Salt Peanuts,” possibly best known from Gillespie’s performance with Jimmy Carter when Gillespie’s combo was invited to the White House. Other presidents have displayed more polished musical skills; but Carter “got the spirit” with a bit of Gillespie’s coaxing.

Last night was also about “getting the spirit;” but, for most of the program, the “messenger” was Ali. Towards the end of her narrative, she framed the entire experience with a reference to “Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome.” The intensity of both her text and its narration was punctuated with her style of tap dancing, which frequently erupted as over-the-top frenetic. Her narration reflected on, among others, John Coltrane and Jimi Hendrix, while her delivery of “Swing Low, Sweet Cadillac” (very much her own, rather than a reflection on Gillespie and Moody) contrasted sharply with her following delivery of the hymn “I’ll Fly Away.”

Nevertheless, it seemed as if any evocation of Gillespie and his music served a that-was-then-this-is-now context. The intense urgency of Ali’s verbal delivery made it clear that much has changed over half a century. Nevertheless, all that change has been haunted by an uncertainty of how many of those steps went forward and how many went back. The program concluded with what amounted to a nostalgic reflection on Pangea, before our planet separated into continents. The “message,” as such, was a plea to come together at a time when all seems to be coming apart.

Sadly, while the message could not have been better delivered, most likely last night’s recipients already knew it, while those needing to hear it were far away from Herbst Theatre.