Just passing this along. Maybe some of you would find it of interest. Marian <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> From: "DAVID CHEVAN" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: "World music from a Jewish slant" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> Sent: Sunday, September 16, 2001 7:12 PM Subject: long story about today This is a pretty long, but true and UNEDITED story (it could probably use some editing) but I needed to send it and share it before I felt like I couldn't. I want to share with you something that occurred to me today during a performance I was giving with my group, The Afro-Semitic Experience. It just happened within the past few hours so that I am still in the midst of trying to absorb and understand exactly what happened and what it means. At least a month ago, maybe longer, the Afro-Semitic Experience was invited to give a performance that would occur today as part of the Arts and Crafts Fair at the New Britain Museum of American Art. The band spent quite a bit of time rehearsing and learning new pieces for this performance and realized only days before the event that this would be an opportunity for us to share our music as an act of reflection and healing. The repertoire of the Afro-Semitic Experience is a mixture of pieces that reflects the distinct cultural backgrounds of the musicians in the band. We play what I sometimes describe as a creative interpretation of the music of the diasporic worlds of the Jewish and African peoples. That means a mix of gospel, jazz, klezmer, spirituals, and Jewish and African-American liturgical song. As a general rule we perform instrumental renditions of these pieces and I do take the time to introduce the music and explain a bit about what we are doing. Our instrumentation today consisted of seven musicians playing clarinet, tenor sax, violin/pedal steel guitar, keyboards, bass, drum set, and African drums. A number of the pieces that we play from the Jewish tradition include melodies that incorporate the distinct Ahavah Rabo or freygish scale. And that scale was, I believe, at least one source of the trouble that happened today. We were performing an interpretation of my arrangement of the beautiful Shabbat melody, Shalom Aleichem, when I noticed a number of people walking by and shaking their heads. Then a few people came up and started to speak with the guys in the band. As the piece ended two people from the Museum came over to speak with me, the person who had hired us and the director of the museum. They told me that they had received numerous complaints about the inappropriateness of our music, that these people who were complaining felt that we shouldn't be playing music that sounded like "that" at a time like this. I asked them if they wanted us to stop because this is our music, this is what we do as artists and that the music was Jewish and sacred. Both women agreed that if we wanted to continue they would support us. But they suggested that I speak to the crowd and try to bring them into our performance. I realized that we were at something of a cross-roads and that whatever I said would either get us run out of town on a rail or save us from such a fate. I don't remember exactly what I said, but what I tried to convey was the spirit of what we were about. I explained about the band and why we had come together. I told of the many concerts that Warren Byrd and I have been giving that were the catalyst for the Afro-Semitic Experience. I spoke about my grandmother who had escaped the pogroms of Poland and come to America where she could live as a Jew, I spoke about the messages behind our melodies, how these songs represent traditions both new and old that celebrate freedom and opportunity. I tried to explain that our music celebrated peace and humanity in a way that should make everyone proud they could be there to hear it. Yes, I got a bit righteous--but it was one of those moments where I had to lay it on the line. We continued playing and we still got flack. We took a short break and I went to grab a bite to eat. While eating my fried dough one man came up to me and said, almost apologetically, "look buddy, this may sound harsh, but this is not a good week to be talking about brotherhood." I asked what he thought of the music. He told me that while he thought we sounded pretty good we should probably stop as we were insulting the dead. I thanked him and quickly gathered the band for the second set. During the second set we received even more complaints when we played our version of the klezmer standard, Ma Yofus, another piece with that distinctive Ahavah Raba scale. But by that time we were getting as many compliments as we were complaints. I knew there was a schism in the crowd, that not everyone was clinging to the same broad jingoistic sentiments. I then pulled a chart that half of the band had never seen before, the Israeli song, Shir LaShalom, "Song for Peace". A song, not incidentally, that had been sung by Yitshak Rabin only moments before he was assassinated. I read an English translation of the lyrics as loudly, slowly and clearly as I could over the PA system. Let the sun rise and give the morning light, The purest prayer will not bring us back. He whose candle was snuffed out and buried in the dust, A bitter cry won't wake him, won't bring him back. Nobody will return us from the dead dark pit. Here, neither the joy of victory nor songs of praise will help. So sing only a song for peace, don't whisper a prayer It's better to sing a song for peace with a big shout . . . We played the tune and I've never heard this band sound better. The challenge that our audience had presented us, along with the challenge of making a song that three of the seven of us had never played before really brought us to a new level. We got into this piece in a way that goes beyond description. It is why I am a performing musician. To be able to connect with other players and with at least some of the audience in this indescribable manner. But I think we still failed to connect with at least some of the audience and it hurt. >From that moment on and for the remainder of our performance, I knew that there were people who were not into what they were hearing, but they knew better, they kept quiet about it. And after the concert we were well received. There was an audience who wanted to hear us and wanted us to keep going. But what occurred today was, I think, an example of that irrational fear factor that is going on all over America. There is a fear of anything that is remotely Arabic in nature and that includes anything Jewish that smacks of the Middle East. The combination of the Ahavah Raba scale and our incredible African drummer (Baba David Coleman) must have intimidated a portion of the audience in a way that none of us were expecting. Its been a long time since I'd encountered a hostile audience and this was an audience at a museum of art, the last place one would expect to find rampant jingoism. I worry about my Arab friends, and I worry about the possible return of anti-semitism and racism in America. I mean, I did explain that these were Jewish songs and I was still told it would be better to stop. If these things take place than whoever is responsible for ordering the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks has more than succeeded. These are my initial reactions to today's event. If you'd like you can pass this story along. Please keep in mind that the museum supported us, and a good chunk of the people who heard us supported us too. But there is a group of people out there who are allowing the events of this past week to give them opportunity to allow their true colors to show and it has got me worried. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> David Chevan, Bassologist for more info visit my web site located at www.chevan.addr.com <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
