Behind no fewer than eight LPs in 2020,
Adrian Younge didn't allow time for catch-up in early 2021. The songwriter, producer, arranger, and one-man band kept on pushing with his and
Ali Shaheed Muhammad's Jazz Is Dead series, and presented this album, a component of an intensive multimedia project that extends to a short film and four-part podcast. Central to the work is the psychological damage that racist behavior -- including enslavement and derogatory terminology -- has had on
Younge's people. In part, it's also a history lesson with a range of emotion from lamentation of white-on-Black slaughter to affirmation of Black power. Aided by a handful of fellow vocalists heard individually and as a chorus,
Younge is the only individual credited with instrumentation. He fills each role of a standard band plus an assortment of percussion and woodwinds, remodeling soul and groove-oriented jazz of the late '60s and early '70s with grit and elegance. That
Younge is an engaging orator will not surprise anyone who has heard him talk about Swedish prog records and vintage studio gear. He addresses the audience with warmth and love throughout the album, spreading knowledge and impelling action without being excessively didactic. (No stretch of the imagination is required to see him following in the footsteps of
James Mtume by hosting a community-oriented call-in radio program.)
Younge's spoken parts function as interludes, side commentaries, and supplemental statements related to a balanced mix of vocal numbers and instrumentals. The cuts with minimal or no vocals are poignant even without considering titles like "Dying on the Run" and "A Symphony for Sahara." Those that more prominently feature singers Loren Oden, Sam Harmonix, and
Chester Gregory are filled with riveting moments. Take the defiant "Revolutionize," with a group vocal that reaches full flight at "Say it with me, brother, Black is beautiful," or the undaunted "I will fight for you" that pierces through the choppy polyrhythm and soaring strings of "The March on America." Most affecting is Oden's tender first-person vocal on "James Mincey, Jr." a tribute to a Los Angeles man who in 1982 was killed by police chokehold in his mother's driveway. Mincey was Oden's uncle. ~ Andy Kellman