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    At 100, the Intergalactic Jazz Hero Marshall Allen Is Still on a Mission

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    The Sun Ra Arkestra saxophonist, who remains captivated by the power of sound, is an inspiring onstage presence.In late June, the Sun Ra Arkestra was onstage at Roulette in Brooklyn, swinging its way through “Queer Notions,” a jaunty big-band tune by the saxophonist Coleman Hawkins. The rendition hewed closely to the relaxed, seesaw riffing of the original, recorded by Fletcher Henderson and His Orchestra in 1933. But there was one prominent difference: the barrage of bleeps, whooshes and wobbly theremin-like tones emanating from an EVI — short for electronic valve instrument — played by Marshall Allen, the multi-instrumentalist and longtime Arkestra mainstay who had recently celebrated his 100th birthday.Allen’s longevity onstage would be noteworthy on its own. But when you take in an Arkestra gig — watching Allen repeatedly leap to his feet to solo, resplendent in a gold-sequined cap and vest — his endurance is mind-boggling. Both at Roulette, where the ensemble played the concluding set of the Vision Festival in honor of Allen’s centennial, and during a trio performance at the Brooklyn Music School a few days earlier, he wasn’t merely an eminent elder but a mirthful dynamo. His contributions on EVI and alto saxophone often clashed brilliantly with the surrounding textures, embodying the joyous eclecticism that helped make Sun Ra — the pianist, composer and Afrofuturist thought leader who helmed the Arkestra from the mid 1950s until his death in 1993 — one of the 20th century’s most prescient musical visionaries.Much like Sun Ra’s own keyboard work, Allen’s art is a study in extremes. His alto saxophone phrases are mini eruptions: Tensing his shoulders as he blows and raking his right hand up and down over the keys, he produces squeals, snarls and honks that register as Expressionist gestures as much as avant-garde sounds. Even set against the alto work of a musician one-fourth his age — as on the tribute LP “Red Hot & Ra: The Magic City,” where Allen appears alongside the rising star Immanuel Wilkins — his sonic splatters still hold a bracing power.But focusing on Allen’s more outré qualities can obscure just how much history he embodies. Enlisting in the Army during World War II, he played clarinet in a military band and, after an honorable discharge, studied at the Paris Conservatory and recorded with the bebop luminary James Moody. When he joined up with the Arkestra in Chicago in 1957, it was a compact, immaculately swinging big band, with a sound rooted in both Sun Ra’s admiration of giants like Fletcher Henderson and a pervasive Space Age aesthetic, manifesting in shiny costumes and sung slogans like “We travel the space ways/From planet to planet.” Allen was drawn in, he recalled to The New York Times in 2020, by the leader’s lectures on space and “all this other stuff: ancient Egypt and the Bible.”The Brooklyn Music School performance — where Allen was joined by fellow Arkestra members Tara Middleton (vocals) and Farid Barron (piano) — served as a reminder of his firm grounding in a bygone era. Though the set featured plenty of jump-scare saxophone and echoey EVI tones, there were also roomy stretches of poignant lyricism. On “Sometimes I’m Happy,” a 1920s-era standard that Sun Ra often played, Allen answered Middleton’s lines with soft, ruminative phrases that strongly evoked Johnny Hodges, whose legacy is as closely intertwined with Duke Ellington as Allen’s is with Sun Ra.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      5 Minutes That Will Make You Love Sun Ra

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      Questlove, Dawn Richard and a range of other musicians, writers and critics share their favorites from the experimental pianist, organist and bandleader’s wide-ranging catalog.Lately The New York Times has asked jazz musicians, writers and scholars to share the favorites that would make a friend fall in love with Duke Ellington, Alice Coltrane, bebop, Ornette Coleman and jazz vocals.Now we’re putting the spotlight on Sun Ra, the experimental pianist, organist and bandleader whose idiosyncratic blend of jazz imagined life on other planets. Born Herman Poole Blount in Birmingham, Ala., he wore ornate robes and Egyptian headgear, and composed progressive music meant to commune with Saturn, a place he said he felt a connection with after an out-of-body experience in college. “My whole body was changed into something else,” Sun Ra once said. “I could see through myself.” He said aliens spoke to him: “They would teach me some things that when it looked like the world was going into complete chaos, when there was no hope for nothing, then I could speak, but not until then. I would speak, and the world would listen.” In turn, Sun Ra’s music centered on space travel as a form of Black liberation. He believed Black people would never find freedom on Earth, and that real emancipation resided in the cosmos. Over the course of his career, Sun Ra recorded more than 200 albums with his band — called the Arkestra — before his death in 1993 at 79.Sun Ra’s music can be challenging — both artistically and through the intimidating size of his discography. So while this isn’t a comprehensive list (what could be?), the songs chosen here by a range of musicians, writers and critics represent a cross-section of swing, fusion and free jazz. Enjoy listening to the excerpts or the full playlist at the bottom of the article, and be sure to leave your own Sun Ra favorites in the comments.◆ ◆ ◆Nicole Mitchell, creative flutist“El Is a Sound of Joy” has a symphonically blue, melodious, laid-back vibe that expresses the core of Sun Ra’s soul — his incredible love for Black folks. His piano solo knocks with grace through the changes that life puts us through in a mellow tempo that resists the stressful segregation and poverty that the Black community faced in Chicago in 1956, when this song was recorded. Just as Ra’s founding of the Saturn record label was a model for self-determination, “El Is a Sound of Joy” — a central track on this first Saturn album, “Super-Sonic Jazz” — is a mission statement that sings of our audacity to be beautiful. “El,” meaning “might, strength and power” in Hebrew, and a distinction of wisdom for the Moors, ties philosophical wisdom with sound intended to liberate. Climbing effortlessly through whole tones, on the backdrop of baritone blues shouts, we levitate into ethereal pleasantries. It’s the sound offered for our saving.“El Is a Sound of Joy — a.k.a. El Is the Sound of Joy”Sun Ra and His Arkestra (Enterplanetary Koncepts)◆ ◆ ◆Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson, musicianMost of this song is a chant: “You made a mistake. You did something wrong. Now make another mistake and do something right.” This is a mantra I live by, and also a destination I arrived at even before I knew this song. I have made my art, and also made a career, and also made a living by developing a musical style that seems like it is a mistake. What Sun Ra is saying is that we shouldn’t think of mistakes in the way that they have traditionally been thought of, that we shouldn’t place a negative value on them but rather a positive one. Prince used to say something similar to Wendy Melvoin: When you make a mistake, repeat it twice so that it looks purposeful. Two lefts (or maybe three) make a right. I believe in this message and this method so much that this song has become one of my rare meditation soundtracks that’s not a binaural beat.“Make Another Mistake”Sun Ra and His Arkestra (Enterplanetary Koncepts)◆ ◆ ◆John Szwed, Sun Ra biographerKnown mostly for what he called sounds of the future, Sun Ra was also devoted to the music of his youth, and sometimes mixed late 1920s swing into his wildest music. No surprise, then, that when in 1988 the producer Hal Willner asked him to be part of the album “Stay Awake: Various Interpretations of Music from Vintage Disney Films,” he agreed to do it. Willner suggested a song from the 1941 film “Dumbo” during which the little misfit elephant gets drunk. Once Sun Ra watched the film, and saw Dumbo hallucinating elephants leaping into space and traveling over pyramids and past some Egypto-images, he declared that he understood the plight of the misunderstood, rewrote the arrangement he was given, and recorded a strikingly straight performance of “Pink Elephants on Parade” with the whole band singing. It was no joke: a year later he would record his own full-length Disney tribute album, “Second Star to the Right.”“Pink Elephants on Parade”Sun Ra and His Arkestra (A&M)◆ ◆ ◆Dawn Richard, musician“Space Loneliness No. 2” creates a frequency and vibration that sets me afire. The uncomfortable spaces and eerie chord pairings feel like actual bridges to space. It encompasses this black hole of sound while also giving you a vivid picture of isolation. (Before this, the song “The Cosmo-Fire,” with its brightly colored cadence and percussion, gave me that same feeling.) “Space Loneliness No. 2” is a fitting sonic description of the seclusion one feels during a global pandemic and political turmoil. It explains a time we all felt isolated, and this song speaks not only to my personal emotional journey, but to the brilliance and genius of Sun Ra, and his ability to constantly reflect the time while being light years ahead of it.“Space Loneliness No. 2”Sun Ra and His Arkestra (Strut)◆ ◆ ◆David Renard, Times senior editorIf I want to clear out the mind’s cobwebs, I’m putting on a long piece like “Atlantis” and letting it blow my hair back. But what if the vibe is more “zipping with the top down through an Afrofuturist spy movie”? Sun Ra has you covered there, too. “The Perfect Man” was released in 1974, on a single on Sun Ra’s own El Saturn label, paired with the jaunty, bluesy chant “I’m Gonna Unmask the Batman.” (No one can accuse the Arkestra of lacking a sense of humor.) On this B side, a simple cymbal-and-snare pattern sets things up for Sun Ra’s space-age explorations on a Moog synthesizer, accompanied by more earthbound, tuneful horns — funky minimalism at its finest.“The Perfect Man”Sun Ra Arkestra (Strut)◆ ◆ ◆Rob Mazurek, musicianSun Ra’s “Disco 3000” was culled from live recordings from Milan in 1978. The title track moves from Ra’s infectious bass lines, to free excursion, to ingenious use of rhythm machine and arpeggiator, creating this outer/inner sound unlike anything else. One gets the impression that Sun Ra is playing the past, present and future in one fell swoop, his mighty organ being played as if it’s some kind of time-travel device. It’s a seeming precursor to future studio cutup technique (although played live!), with stellar solos by the great John Gilmore and Michael Ray, and the colorful, propulsive drumming of Luqman Ali. A quartet performance that is orchestrated perfectly by Ra. We are even treated to a short shouted chorus of Sun Ra’s most famous hymn, “Space Is the Place.” If you are looking for a deep cut to take you somewhere else, frequencies to expand the mind, and at the same time absolutely relevant to now, then this is it.“Disco 3000”Sun Ra and His Arkestra (Enterplanetary Koncepts)◆ ◆ ◆Amirtha Kidambi, musician“Saturnian Queen of the Sun Ra Arkestra” (2019) is the only collection of June Tyson recordings, an odd thing considering her ubiquity in the Sun Ra universe. The inimitable Tyson was the voice of the Arkestra from 1967 until her untimely death in 1992. Now, 30 years later, Tyson is still one of the underrated vocalists of the idiom. I’ve personally been waiting for the June Tyson Renaissance for a while now, having soaked up her influence in my own singing, and in my work with Darius Jones in Angels & Demons, centered on the cosmological writings of Sun Ra. Ra wrote hundreds of poems, a practice serious enough for him to send them to publishers apart from their use as lyrics in his music. I spent much of the early pandemic period studying Tyson’s incisive delivery and analyzing these poems, whose prescient themes resonate even more potently today. “Satellites Are Spinning” is a bizarre, insistent little ditty built on an unstable augmented chord, with dissonant horn swells and an accompaniment that feels disjointed from Tyson’s vocal melody. In this chromatic field, Tyson pierces through with an angular yet characteristically bluesy line, “We sing this song to abolish sorrow.” I think the word “abolish” is key here. Abolition, for a better tomorrow, if only the Earth would awaken.“Satellites Are Spinning”June Tyson (with the Sun Ra Arkestra) (Modern Harmonic)◆ ◆ ◆Marcus J. Moore, jazz writerSun Ra’s “Shadow World,” from a 1970 concert at Fondation Maeght in the south of France, sounds like a subway car barreling underground, its cascading drums and squealing horns coalescing in turbulent harmony. It’s free jazz and psych-rock, cacophonous and dulcet. Midway through the song, Sun Ra cuts through the din with an organ solo beamed in from Saturn, giving it an otherworldly feel. Equally aggressive and brave, it’s the type of song needed this time of year in a cold-weather city, when the sun fades too soon and nothing shields you from the unforgiving chill. But I think that’s why I love the song: Like much of Sun Ra’s music, it’s uninhibited, and the crescendo reminds me of another personal favorite — Common’s “Jimi Was a Rock Star” — as an orchestral gem conjuring ancestors in the most frenetic way imaginable. That it upholds creative vision while confounding listeners is a plus. Nothing impactful comes from playing it safe.“Shadow World”Sun Ra and His Arkestra (Cosmic Myth Records)◆ ◆ ◆Andy Beta, writerAs a punk/alternative kid, noise was what originally pulled me into Sun Ra’s orbit, his use of terrestrial instrumentation to conjure sounds both astral and alien. But as the late Detroit house and techno producer Mike Huckaby once told me: “Most of what he is playing is not noise,” noting instead the man’s uncanny ability to blend chaos and tenderness in his music. Nowhere is that balance better documented than on a run of albums Ra recorded in 1979 for his El Saturn label, capped with “Sleeping Beauty,” which leans slightly toward the latter element. Some 28 musicians in total are credited, but on “Springtime Again,” they move as a single unit. The Arkestra’s sound is airy, dreamy, drifting, voices like a sigh. Here, Ra is not so much concerned with the cosmos, but with that most wondrous earthly delight, the return of spring.“Springtime Again”Sun Ra and His Intergalactic Myth Science Solar Arkestra (Enterplanetary Koncepts)◆ ◆ ◆Jes Skolnik, writer, editor and musicianThe B-side and title track of the album “Atlantis” isn’t exactly an easy piece, but it is one to which I return frequently. Recorded live at the Olatunji Center of African Culture in Harlem in 1967 — Ra and the Nigerian drummer Babatunde Olatunji were good friends, bonded by musical inclinations and similar ideas around the importance of African and broader Black diasporic art — it was condensed down to just over 20 minutes from roughly 45. Ra’s keyboard improvisations here are aggressive and discordant, representing the titular ancient civilization being overwhelmed by the forces of the natural world; as the band finally enters the shattered landscape about 10 minutes in, one can see visions of the future built among the wreckage of the past.“Atlantis”Sun Ra and His Astro Infinity Arkestra (Enterplanetary Koncepts)◆ ◆ ◆keiyaA, musicianIf jazz is a language, then Sun Ra’s Arkestra was my introduction to the practice of speaking freely, intentionally objecting to traditional notions of form and communicating outside of them. Conscientious objection is something in which June Tyson is an expert, especially shown in my favorite tune of theirs, “Somebody Else’s World.” The opening organ line is the opening of a grand ceremony. June enters haunting and assured, a lesson in Southern Gothic. She sings a translucent “ah,” a melody, and then the lyrics:“Somebody else’s idea of somebody else’s world is not my idea of things as they are. Somebody else’s idea of things to come need not be the only way to vision the future.”June continues to bellow, with pulsating “ah”s, the band expanding and retracting. It’s so beautiful and consuming! She ends by humming the melody, giving us room to meditate on what’s been said. Hearing this for the first time felt like holding a ton of bricks; it’s heavy as hell, to be reminded and assured that we can (must?) shape the world to be what we believe it to be and not inherently what it is. I’d always known (and been intimidated by) Sun Ra’s work to reference life outside of this world, but June’s voice alongside his gave me a framework on what to do with this world. Long live Sun Ra and the Saturnian Queen — I am truly, truly thankful for them.“Somebody Else’s World — a.k.a. Somebody Else’s Idea”Sun Ra and His Astro Infinity Arkestra (Enterplanetary Koncepts)◆ ◆ ◆◆ ◆ ◆ More

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      Billie Eilish Contemplates Distraction, and 10 More New Songs

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      Hear tracks by Flo Milli, Jessie Ware, Montell Fish and others.Every Friday, pop critics for The New York Times weigh in on the week’s most notable new songs and videos. Just want the music? Listen to the Playlist on Spotify here (or find our profile: nytimes). Like what you hear? Let us know at theplaylist@nytimes.com and sign up for our Louder newsletter, a once-a-week blast of our pop music coverage.Billie Eilish, ‘TV’“TV” — from a pair of modestly strummed but richly produced “guitar songs” Billie Eilish has just released — starts out like one of her hushed, breathy ballads about estrangement, self-doubt and a longing for numbness, this time using TV; she considers putting on “‘Survivor’ just to watch somebody suffer.” But she’s onto something larger — the ways entertainment nurtures distraction, alienation and apathy — and she turns pointedly 2022 topical: “The internet’s gone wild watching movie stars on trial/While they’re overturning Roe v. Wade,” she sings. But Eilish hasn’t forgotten she’s an entertainer herself; as she ponders her isolation in a closing refrain — “Maybe I’m the problem” — she dials in an arena audience, singing and clapping along. JON PARELESJessie Ware, ‘Free Yourself’Jessie Ware reaches for time-tested disco tools in “Free Yourself,” abetted by the stalwart producer Stuart Price (Madonna, Pet Shop Boys, Dua Lipa). There’s a bouncing-octave piano riff, a solidly thumping beat and eventually the sounds of a swooping, hovering string section, as Ware promises that freedom will feel good: “Keep on moving up that mountaintop,” she urges. “Why don’t you please yourself?” The breakdowns and buildups assemble with a sense of glittery inevitability, strutting toward a big finish that, startlingly, never arrives: “Don’t stop!,” Ware sings, “Baby don’t you …” Suddenly, she’s left hanging. PARELESFlo Milli featuring BabyFace Ray, ‘Hottie’A Flo Milli song is like a Blingee filter: loud, flashy, and confrontationally femme. This week the Alabama rapper put out her major-label debut album, “You Still Here, Ho?,” a kind of spiritual sequel to her irresistible 2020 mixtape “Ho, Why Is You Here?” Following an introductory invocation of the muse, which in this case is the reality TV legend Tiffany “New York” Pollard, the album is a showcase for Flo Milli’s braggadocious humor and the chatty ease of her signature flow. Plenty of other rappers would slow their tempo when given a beat as dreamy as the one on “Hottie,” but Milli is relentless as ever, antically flirty while still taking a breath to set some boundaries (“I don’t text back if I’m cranky”). Here, as on other highlights from the record, she spits like a cartoon character gleefully gliding across a rainbow. LINDSAY ZOLADZTyler ICU featuring Nkosazana Daughter, Kabza De Small and DJ Maphorisa, ‘Inhliziyo’Three notable South African producers — Tyler ICU, Kabza De Small and DJ Maphorisa — worked on “Inhliziyo” (“Heart”), a spacious amapiano track built from shakers, sustained keyboard chords, sparsely tapping percussion and shadowy, nearly subterranean bass lines. What makes it even more haunting than most amapiano songs are the vocals by its songwriter, Nkosazana Daughter: quiet and nearly private, hinting at non-Western inflections and suffused with the inconsolable heartbreak of her Zulu lyrics. PARELESSun Ra Arkestra, ‘Somebody Else’s Idea’The Sun Ra Arkestra conjures a loose communality, the feeling of mavericks gathering for a shared purpose. When the Arkestra recorded “Somebody Else’s Idea” during Sun Ra’s lifetime, June Tyson sang lyrics like “Somebody else’s idea of things to come/Need not be the only way.” The current Arkestra, led by the saxophonist Marshall Allen, reclaims the song without words, as a leisurely bolero with saxophones or wordless voices carrying the succinct melody over Afro-Caribbean percussion. They’re joined at times by Farid Barron’s floridly dissonant piano, by brass interjections, by flute trills, and by wavery strings, each adding its own contribution until, like a caravan at sunset, the tune settles into a resting place. PARELESJulianna Riolino, ‘You’“You,” from the Canadian singer-songwriter Julianna Riolino’s forthcoming debut album, “All Blue,” is a twangy, deliriously catchy blast of power-pop. Riolino’s impassioned delivery and boot-stomping energy will appeal to fans of the more upbeat songs on Angel Olsen’s “My Woman,” but Riolino also blends the sounds of vintage country and jangly garage rock in a way that’s uniquely her own. “Everyone is fine until they are drowning in someone,” Riolino sings on this ode to devotion, with the intensity of someone hanging on for dear life. ZOLADZMamalarky, ‘Mythical Bonds’The indie-rock band Mamalarky, formed in Austin and now based in Atlanta, celebrates a deep, joyous friendship in “Mythical Bonds,” the first single from an album due in September, “Pocket Fantasy.” With a teasing smile in her voice, the guitarist Livvy Benneett sings, “I don’t care what I do so long as I do it with you.” The complications — and there are plenty of them — are in the music: stop-start meter changes, peculiar chords, gnarled counterpoint, all packed into two playful minutes. Mamalarky makes math-rock sound like fun. PARELESBlondshell, ‘Kiss City’“Mama, I’m adjacent to a lot of love,” the Los Angeles singer-songwriter Sabrina Teitelbaum sings, in one of several highly quotable lines from her second single as Blondshell. (Also: “I think my kink is when you tell me that you think I’m pretty.”) During the first half of “Kiss City,” Teitelbaum delivers these lines in an arch, somewhat self-deprecating croon, accompanied by an understated arrangement of piano and guitar. But around the midway point, “Kiss City” rips open and becomes a towering rock song, giving Teitelbaum the space to shout those same lines with all of her heart, as if she’s suddenly in a dream, confessing the sorts of things she’d be terrified to admit in waking life. ZOLADZKelsey Waldon, ‘Simple as Love’Sometimes, amazingly, romances actually work out. With a pedal steel guitar sighing affirmations behind her, the plain-spoken country singer Kelsey Waldon rolls out images and similes — “like a monarch to a mimosa tree,” “simple as a cotton dress,” “patient as the moon” — to marvel at a reliable, nurturing love: no drama, just comfort and gratitude. PARELESMontell Fish, ‘Darling’Recorded in Montell Fish’s bedroom in Brooklyn, “Darling” — from his new album, “Jamie” — is a love song infused with fragility, delivered as a serenely undulating waltz. “Did you fall out of love, my darling?” he wonders in an otherworldly falsetto, over acoustic guitar picking and low-fi string squeaks. A big, bedroom-grunge chorus arises as he begs, “Please don’t run away,” but the beat falls away and ghostly piano chords are his only accompaniment as he resigns himself: “I’m finally letting you go,” he decides. PARELESObjekt, ‘Bad Apples’TJ Hertz, the electronic musician who records as Objekt, uses the proudly unnatural tones of techno to generate constantly escalating tension in “Bad Apples.” He undermines the methodical predictability of most dance music. Even as the beat stays foursquare and danceable, sounds and silences keep arriving, accreting, suddenly vanishing or fracturing themselves. Buzzes, chimes, nagging nasal tones, deep bass cross-rhythms, slides and crackles, blips that turn into swarms: in the next two bars, anything might appear, from any direction. PARELES More

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      A BRIC in Flux Turns Out an Intimate, Focused JazzFest

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      Though it was operating on fewer cylinders because of the pandemic, for the first time in its seven-year history the event sold out all three nights of music in Brooklyn.As jazz festivals go, BRIC JazzFest is on the small but ambitious side, aspiring to a few ideas at once. It operates in Brooklyn with something close to Manhattan-scale resources, but like BRIC’s flagship music series, the Celebrate Brooklyn! Festival, it aims to serve a broad audience, not a particularly affluent one.To a greater degree than Celebrate Brooklyn! — a series of mostly free summertime performances in Prospect Park — JazzFest spotlights artists who live and work in the borough, though it brings in some of the best from out of town too. In the process, its organizers cut away at some of the hierarchical thinking that other jazz festivals, at various levels, often reinforce.After three nights of music this past weekend from across the borough’s varied landscape, it was in the closing moments that all these strands came together most effortlessly, in what might have been the festival’s most informal moment.The multi-instrumentalist Louis Cato was leading a jam session, smiling mirthfully from behind an electric bass, guiding a rotating band through deep-pocket covers of jazz standards and D’Angelo B-sides. At one point he followed Yahzarah — a vocalist and longtime veteran of the neo-soul scene, giving a bravura performance — from a coldly grooving cover of Queen’s “We Are the Champions” to a simmering vamp on James Brown’s “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World.”It felt like a festival-size version of something that you might find happening at a small bar in Brooklyn — and that ought to happen at more of them. Whether it fit perfectly under the banner of a “jazz festival” felt both uncertain and unimportant. Here were pieces of popular culture coming together; what justified its place as the culminating act was the virtuosity of the players, and the way they seemed to have earned the crowd’s constant curiosity.The crowds had been good all weekend, including for strong sets by high-profile headliners like the vocalist Cécile McLorin Salvant, who closed Thursday night, and the Sun Ra Arkestra, Friday’s finale. This was the first time in BRIC JazzFest’s seven-year history that it had sold out completely each night, putting some wind into the sails of an organization that has found itself deeply in flux.Much of BRIC’s top leadership has departed in recent months, leaving it in a period of transition as it looks to move beyond the coronavirus pandemic. Shortly before the festival, Lia Camille Crockett, BRIC’s director of performing arts, announced that she was taking a job running NPR’s live-events operation.But in an interview, she said that BRIC had allowed her to experiment during the pandemic in ways that paid off, and she expects the organization to ride out its current straits with a similar resourcefulness. “One of the things I’ve loved about working at BRIC is that it’s always been an environment where you can ask questions, and question why things have been done a certain way,” she said.“It was a year of experimentation,” she added. “Without saying, ‘We have a whole new manifesto,’ it was about taking opportunities where we could to experiment and turn certain things on their head.”Nick Hakim performed with Roy Nathanson, a saxophonist and poet two generations his senior he’d collaborated with earlier this year.Nate Palmer for The New York TimesAt Celebrate Brooklyn! this year, with attendance and sponsorships already expected to be lower than usual, there was extra room for “creative risk-taking,” Crockett said. During the pandemic, she and her team also introduced the idea of having a Brooklyn-based musician help book BRIC JazzFest, along with herself and the producer Brice Rosenbloom. At last year’s digital-only festival, the bassist and singer Meshell Ndegeocello came on board. This year, the artist-curator was the vocalist Madison McFerrin.In an interview, McFerrin said she had put a priority on keeping the curation close to home, mostly by booking musicians she knew personally from around the Brooklyn scene. She saw it as “an opportunity to just put my friends on,” which led her to think about the natural “range and extension of jazz,” as a way of making music.Getting an artist to open their own contacts list seems a solid way of ensuring that a festival has a cozy and coherent feel to it. And it paid off for McFerrin in a personal way. Her headlining set on Saturday, performed solo with a digital control station beside her, went awry at the start when her loops pedal malfunctioned.Midway through the set, she tried to get the audience to clap a fast and not-uncomplicated pattern as she led into “No Time to Lose,” a peppery original tune. Cato, a longtime friend of McFerrin’s, was standing in the crowd, and he saw what the moment needed. He leapt onstage and saddled up behind the drum set, guiding the crowd through the beat.McFerrin first came in contact with BRIC soon after moving to Brooklyn seven years ago, when an old friend approached her to create a short documentary about her life as an artist for BRIC’s online TV channel. In addition to presenting music, BRIC is the borough’s largest creator of public-access TV content; a provider of media literacy training and documentary resources to Brooklyn residents; and an arts education group active in public schools across the borough.The soul vocalist Nick Hakim also first interacted with BRIC through its documentary work, when the filmmaker Terence Nance made a short film about him for a BRIC series, “Brooklyn Is Masquerading as the World.”This year Hakim and Roy Nathanson, a saxophonist and poet two generations his senior, released a short and enchanted album of tunes they’d written together in Nathanson’s South Brooklyn home. I first saw them play some of these songs live in Nathanson’s driveway, during a little public concert he’d thrown for the neighborhood in May, around his 70th birthday, but Friday night marked the first time the songs had been presented in concert with a full band.The playing was as loose and unforced as it is on the album, and both audience and band seemed aware of the music’s value.Sasha Berliner, a rising young vibraphonist also based in Brooklyn, appeared on the gallery stage — located in the building’s amphitheater-style foyer — with a vigorous, groove-oriented new band. Parrying with the keyboardist Julius Rodriguez, who was on Rhodes, Berliner sounded fully in command, showing meaningful growth from the last time she’d played BRIC JazzFest, two years earlier.Stas Thee Boss performed an update on a ’90s indie hip-hop sound.Nate Palmer for The New York TimesThe gallery stage was burdened with tough acoustics and unforgivingly bright lighting (it’s in a glorified lobby, after all), but it boasted a constant, varied flow of acts that offered a sense of what a working musician’s life sounds like in Brooklyn these days, across a variety of scenes.Stas Thee Boss, an M.C. who moved to Brooklyn from the West Coast a few years ago, brought her group’s throbbing update on a ’90s indie hip-hop sound. The guitarist Yasser Tejeda led a quartet that was one-half percussion, blending rhythmic traditions from his home country, the Dominican Republic, that are rarely put together. Adam O’Farrill, a trumpeter who has lived in the borough almost his entire life, opened the festival on Thursday with a set of twisty new music from a forthcoming album with his quartet, Stranger Days.This year, operating on fewer cylinders because of the pandemic, BRIC JazzFest didn’t include a full week of workshops, film screenings and other free community programming, as it typically would. But with a smaller focus and a slightly more intimate feel, it actually widened the lens to show what’s already happening far outside its doors. More

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      New Jazz That Agitates for Change

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      AdvertisementContinue reading the main storyPopcastSubscribe:Apple PodcastsGoogle PodcastsNew Jazz That Agitates for ChangeA conversation about strong recent debuts, and how canon and community can be in tension.Hosted by Jon Caramanica. Produced by Pedro Rosado.More episodes ofPopcastMarch 2, 2021New Jazz That Agitates for ChangeFebruary 15, 2021Remembering Sophie, Architect of Future PopFebruary 5, 2021The Music Lost to Coronavirus, Part 2January 31, 2021Olivia Rodrigo and ‘Drivers License’ Aren’t Going AnywhereJanuary 19, 2021Inside the Bull Market for Songwriting RightsJanuary 7, 2021How Zev Love X Became MF DoomDecember 23, 20202020 Popcast Listener Mailbag: Taylor, Dua, MGK and MoreDecember 15, 2020Taylor Swift’s ‘Evermore’: Let’s DiscussDecember 9, 2020The Best Albums of 2020? Let’s DiscussNovember 29, 2020Saweetie, City Girls and the Female Rapper RenaissanceNovember 18, 2020Who Will Control Britney Spears’s Future?November 10, 2020Ariana Grande, a Pop Star for the Post-Pop Star AgeSee All Episodes ofPopcastMarch 2, 2021Plenty of genres have anxiety about their relationships to history, but perhaps none more loudly than jazz. The conversation about forward movement vs. reverence of the past is at play constantly, and motivates some of the last year’s most exciting releases by Immanuel Wilkins, Jyoti, Exploding Star Orchestra, even the Sun Ra Arkestra.The anxiety can feel lighter, though, in the genre’s most progressive corners, be it the International Anthem label from Chicago, or the forward-thinking hip-hop of artists including Pink Siifu and Earl Sweatshirt.On this week’s Popcast, a conversation about strong recent jazz debuts, the ways in which canon and community can be in tension, and the performers who are looking to innovate in the genre without being beholden to the past.Guests:Giovanni Russonello, who covers jazz for The New York TimesMarcus J. Moore, who writes about music for The New York Times, the Nation and othersAdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      Best Jazz Albums of 2020

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      AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyBest Jazz Albums of 2020The Covid-19 pandemic halted live performance, the lifeblood of the genre, but a run of powerful albums — and standout debuts — provided respite, and hope.Clockwise from top left: Asher Gamedze, Charles Lloyd and Eric Harland, Logan Richardson and Jyoti (Georgia Anne Muldrow).Credit…Clockwise from center: Nicole Fara Silver for The New York Times; Anthony Pidgeon/Redferns, via Getty Images; Tim Mosenfelder/Getty Images; Elijah NdoumbeBy More