1. |
Kamau
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2. |
Calling England Home
06:13
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Black and been here since 1949
West London jaw grind, ‘Tek it easy’
We saw him, you saw him
Walking along the canal last night
And what a joy to buck up upon him
At the carnival today
To hear him speak about
The dances and the bands
At the Paramount
The spots you couldn’t mix
With white in, or dance in
Remembering… London
How he been slapped so hard
With the lash - Sam Selvon say
And it take him 60 years
Before he could call England
‘Home’
He musta come here in black and white, 1959
Time longer than twine
So long ago he don’t
Remember being a child,
Just a suit and steamer trunk
Upon a ship which took
A good six weeks to cross
We sat at his kitchen table
And I filmed him on the fly
But he wasn’t saying much
At least nothing I could put in a poem
Instead he showed me
Photographs - with the dashiki and the fez
With Michael X at the Ambience
Outside the night came in
And he had moved so far away
From calling England
‘Home ’
I’ve lived here longer than home, since 1989
Remember Harlesden in the spring time
I used to walk from Cricklewood
To Marylebone High Street
To cut up meat to punch out dough
I was never asked to wait tables
Or to serve scones and coffee
I worked in the basement
But I learned to tie my apron
In a way that retained some dignity
And in my first summer above the corner shop
I listened to rare groove on pirate radio
I was flung so far from any notion of nation
How long do you have to live in a place
Before you can call it
‘Home?’
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3. |
Maka Dimweh
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4. |
Language (Poem for Anthony McNeill)
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5. |
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Swing Praxis
In which considering the lack
Of a truly beautiful, violent revolution
We establish ourselves as mediums for change
Change which must accumulate
Yo maximum impact and speed
Like rhythm
And rhythm
Is a unit of meaning
Of feeling
Of being
And there are ways
To withstand sustained conflict
But guns are the teeth of democracy
Swing praxis
We must not easily be possessed
By what is just the crudest element of a given plan
Either we vote or protest or tremble or march or fight
But either way it will soon be hard to be ‘cool’
And black at the same time
Swing praxis
It is self-evident
That we stand at the edge of a great victory
Of which we are confident
That we have been wounded in battle
But it’s too late to be hurt
It’s too late to turn back now!
So go on, go on, bring fire music
With harmonic cycles of hymn rhythm
And we will navigate the fear of death
Go deep in the jungles of deceit and concrete
And see how we are murdered on these streets
Or be real and go back to the old country
Go down in the valley and see how my people have built
Such beautyfull homes in the dirt
See how only secular sound and the mutability
And resilience of black spirit duality
Can liberate them
From history
Swing praxis
Come with the hard bop
And catch the vision
Jazz is a river of vigorous spirits
Come like Lightning Hopkins
With the Akpala hip shake
Come and dance the Juba
With the kick and step
And the arms akimbo
Swing
As method
As action
As rubric
As heritage
As a black and combative orchestra
With terrible bees
And whistles and teeth
Swing praxis
Swing praxis
Swing as method
Swing as a template for revolution
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6. |
The Gift
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Anthony Joseph Trinidad and Tobago
Anthony Joseph is a poet, novelist, musician and lecturer described as ‘the leader of the black avant-garde in Britain’. His written work and performance occupies a space between surrealism, Jazz and the rhythms of Caribbean speech and music.
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Such powerful inspirational music! Love this.
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A joyous jazz guitar album, where leaping songs are lit up by silvery melodic leads.
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A jazz-fusion gem from 1970's Venezuela, lovingly reissued.
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Que c'est bon! Black lion et Voilà sont mes pièces préférées.
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