By Riaan de Villiers
I heard Abdullah Ibrahim playing twice, in the early years. The first time was in the Athlone Hotel in Cape Town, in about 1967, when he was still Dollar Brand. I had gone there with a friend, the late Chris Consani. (We thought we were just the cool guys, as attending a concert in a ‘coloured’ hotel in a ‘coloured’ group area was technically illegal.)
The venue – a function room or lounge — was packed, and soon hazy with cigarette smoke, which got denser as the supporting players strung out their sets. Brand and his band were very late, probably on purpose. They eventually sloped in after ten, carrying their guitars, saxophones, and other bits of equipment on their shoulders, and pushing through the sweltering crowd. Like some American bands at that time, they wore glitzy tuxedos and frilly shirts, something that Ibrahim would shed – thankfully – in later years.
After a lengthy set-up, they eventually started playing. I’m no jazz expert, and in those days Ibrahim had not yet matured, but I do remember him already conjuring up large, hypnotically repetitive swathes of sound. At one stage, if my memory serves me correctly, he leant forward over the grand piano and played directly on the strings.
The second time I heard him play was in the mid-seventies, at one of a series of concerts in the Green Point Arts Centre. The building still stands today, but it now houses a McDonalds. Dollar had spent some time abroad and become famous, and the concerts were booked out. By then, he had converted to Islam, and become Abdullah Ibrahim.
One of the items they played was called ‘Jump for Joy’, which I’ve managed to trace on the internet. It’s the title song of a historic revue staged by Duke Ellington in the early 1940s. A remastered version is available online. While meant to be an indictment of the Amerian South, the Ellington version is bright and breezy, with the vocals sung in an upbeat way, against the background of a slick swing band.
Ibrahim approached this very differently, turning it into an elegiac, haunting number, singing the lyrics himself — entirely unaccompanied at times — and playing a wooden flute. Fifty years later, I can still hear his voice and flute in my mind.
So that’s when it happened. One of the band members was a young white guy with glasses. He played a clarinet, or some other woodwind instrument. Possibly overawed by playing in such exalted company, he was trying really hard, and making heavy weather of it.
At one point, Ebrahim stopped playing his flute in mid-phrase, looked at the band member, and sang: ‘Jump for Joy … ??’
Oblivious, the band member played on. Ibrahim sang again: ‘Jump for Joy … ??’
Eventually, the earnest young player looked up, saw what was happening, and grinned sheepishly. Everybody – including the audience – burst out laughing, and the number resumed.
The lyrics are as follows:
[Verse 1]
Fare thee well, land of cotton
Cotton lisle is out of style
Honey child, jump for joy
[Verse 2]
Don’t you grieve, little Eve
All the hounds I do believe have been killed
Ain’t you thrilled? Jump for joy
[Bridge]
Have you seen pastures groovy?
Oh, Green Pastures was just a Technicolor movie
[Verse 3]
When you stomp up to heaven
And you meet old Saint Pete
Tell that boy to jump for joy
Step right in, give Pete some skin and jump for joy
After 91 years, Abdullah Ebrahim has stomped up to heaven. Given what happened all those years ago, I’d like to think that he has stepped right in, given old Saint Pete some skin, and told him to jump for joy.
FEATURED IMAGE: The old Green Point Art Centre, where Abdullah Ibrahim played in the mid-seventies. Since then, it’s been turned into a McDonalds.