Friday night, June 26th, at the Jack London Revue, two old friends climbed down into that basement room and aimed straight up. Kahil El’Zabar and David Murray have been reading each other’s instincts for decades, and you could feel it. They have this easy telepathy with each other that’s otherworldly. I’m no space scientist, but It felt like a direct beam up into the universe!
El’Zabar is a Chicago institution, founder of the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble, longtime AACM chairman, a multi-percussionist who summons whole worlds from hand drums and kalimba. Murray came up through New York’s loft-jazz scene, co-founded the World Saxophone Quartet, and has put out more than 150 records. Cecil Taylor said you could know him from a single note through a doorway. He’s the finest living tenor player (in my personal opinion), and one of the instrument’s great unsung giants. He should be a household name. Walking back to the car after this show, we talked about how that room should have been stuffed with thousands of people. They are two absolute masters.
I read an interview from DownBeat where Murray talks about getting on a certain wavelength with Kahil, where “the words are hooking straight up with all the universe,” like a man struck by lightning. You could feel it while they played.
The two of them playing “Song for a New South Africa” was a standout. Murray’s tenor, seamlessly moving from a rumbly, low ache to something soaring, knocked me out. The song kept threatening to end and then refusing to. There was so much feeling that they seemed to keep almost waking each other up, repeatedly, to play a little more. For Kahil to sing a little more. And Murray couldn’t let go! You’d feel the tune gather toward a landing, and he’d dig back in. The set ended eventually, technically, but I’m not sure the thing they were chasing ever fully landed. I think that was the point!