Portal and Parallels (Guest Special)

Today’s post is an original, previously unpublished essay by Mutawaf A. Shaheed, who played bass with Albert Ayler, Charles Tyler, and the Black Unity Trio back in 1960s Cleveland. Mutawaf stopped playing in 1970 and has since then become a prolific writer of poetry and prose. But he only rarely addresses his time in the music frontally within his writings. In the piece below, among other things, Mutawaf makes what is in my opinion an important point about the discontinuous nature of the history of free music. There was a break, and it is being forgotten.

There are certain times and conditions, in my opinion, when events have a time and space to manifest themselves, to take place. When that time and space closes, it’s over. A universal anomaly. Even star systems have their time to shine. When they explode or implode, they are unrecognizable, but they still exist, just in another form and function. It matters not if it is understood what that function is. Humans can’t precisely figure what the true facts are, or what the function may be, they but guess. There not many among humans who can engage in conversations, discussions held by those who qualify through their education, training and experience, dealing with the universe as they know it. I believe that there are sounds that are necessary to maintaining—​and attached to—​the expansion of the universe.

There are certain societal conditions that must be maintained, that is on all levels of the society’s existence. Standards are set to manage these systems. To keep order. Anyone stepping outside that norm is quickly brought back under control, or is maligned, or castigated. Possibly eliminated by individuals who have been trained, selected for that purpose. Control at every level. There are people who, through the conception process, have been selected to perform tasks that nobody knows about at the time. Being completely unaware of the mission the child has in front of him or her. Just like a certain sperm out of many is chosen to become the tissue to be lodged in place in the womb. This happens with many individuals at the same time. I believe that there is a certain vibration, that at some point connects these people to share various experiences. Functioning within a decree. That decree has physical manifestation. Just as the sun and the moon and other planets have a physical response on the planets and whatever inhabitants, seen or unseen, that are there. I believe everything that exists has a way to communicate with its surroundings. Some people spend time trying to figure those issues and how it works. Believing in something or not changes nothing relative its reality. Each era has a group of sounds that accompany it.

There were people who mastered those sounds. They played within a structure. Some of them were able to stretch the structure to its limits. While that music was pleasing and one was able to dance to it, most of it was predictable and limited. What was to follow was a sound one was challenged to figure out, one had to use the mind and other senses to get with it. It opened up areas never thought of. The innovators were considered wrong, crazy. There was no predicted pattern. Time and space, was now open for it. It was in a hurry to enunciate itself. It infuriated the status quo mindset and players. It had a name, it was the musicians, that was the name. It was called Albert, Ornette, Cecil, then came Trane. It was Bobby Few, Sunny Murray, Don Cherry, Frank Wright, Henry Grimes, Gary Peacock, Thelonious Monk, Charles Tyler, Sun Ra, and a few more. There was no way this thing could last for a long time, because the window was closing as they were doing it. They were the name of the music.

Some of them transitioned back to a more or less traditional situation, some were never ever able to go back to that other time and space. The atmosphere had changed, it was no longer charged with the same amount of energy. Everybody met, conversations were held. Some people were able to comprehend. The subject was discussed, the class was dismissed. That was the lay of the land. I personally saw the end in sight. There was no longer a place for my bass. My circumstances made it easier for me to go to another art form. Back, being able to express myself in a more concise and unambiguous manner. That period was prophecy.

The system couldn’t tolerate this disruption in the status quo. The countermeasures were taking place in our face. Carnal sounds were being put in place. A beat with a single goal in mind. Lowering the standards, of human dignity. Making the people pay a price for ever trying to be free. Completely devoid of any spirituality. Base borne by its very nature. Every note, those who were chosen to play those notes, were quotes from another time and place. Somewhere that sound is still resonating, just can’t put your fingers on it. It has been more than fifty years and nothing has surfaced as of yet that’s comparable. Possibility or probability?

For more from Mutawaf, see our 2019 interview, his contribution to a collective piece in memory of Abdul Wadud, and his introduction to a work on musician-owned record labels.