If you didn’t hear the 2016 breakout album from Shabaka & The Ancestors, you may still be familiar with Shabaka Hutchings who leads Sons of Kemet and is a member of The Comet is Coming. The UK saxophonist is one of the brightest lights in spiritual jazz, one who absorbed the lessons of Coltrane and Sanders, to forge his own aggressive style. Shabaka and the Ancestors, though, is not a London-based group but a group of South African musicians that Hutchings leads. We Are Sent Here by History was recorded in Johannesburg and Cape Town, just like its predecessor, Wisdom of Elders. While the first album warned of impending societal collapse, this one unfolds within in. It is conceptualized as an album-long sonic poem examining the present and the future. We will excerpt some lyrics later but here’s the conceptual statement from Hutchings.
We Are Sent Here by History is a mediation on the fact of our coming extinction as a species. It is a reflection from the ruins, from the burning, a questioning of the steps to be taken in preparation for our transition individually and societally if the end is to be seen as anything but a tragic defeat. For those lives lost and cultures dismantled by centuries of western expansionism, capitalist thought and white supremacist structural hegemony the end days have long been heralded as present with this world experienced as an embodiment of a living purgatory.”
Here are some examples of the poem titles – “They Who Must Die,” “Run, Darkness Will Pass,” “Beasts Too Spoke of Suffering” and “Teach Me How to Be Vulnerable.” The album mixes African and Afro-Caribbean traditions, taking the concept of the griot – the living archive of a historical narrative and presents the album as the modern day griot. So, this is much more than just the spiritual, rhythmic, engaging music. The theme and messaging lie in the accompanying text. Before we get there, however, the opening notes of the first track, “They Who Must Die” brings this writer back to the riveting performance of Hutchings with Sons of Kemet at last year’s Newport Jazz Festival, where the entire audience stood for the last 40 minutes of the set. So, no matter what avenue you take, or, lest you be scared off by the doom and gloom, the music is highly engaging.
South African performance artist Slyabonga Mthembu chants and sings on the record and composed lyrics for the album. Shabaka then chose song titles from the lyrics and composed poems around each title, based on Slyabonga’s lyrics. On “We Will Work (On Redefining Manhood)” Slyabonga sings a poem in Zulu that, when translated to English, shuns the archaic pillars of virility. From childhood, young boys are trained to suppress their emotions and suffer in silence. “This song sings from the point of the toxic masculine,” Slyabonga says. “It repeats the sentences they tell their boys – to not cry, to not grieve and to not hurt.” Shabaka’s accompanying poem reads: Indoda ayikhali/A man doesn’t cry/Indoda ayizile/A man doesn’t grieve/Indoda ayizali/A man doesn’t give birth/By any means possible/We will work(on redefining manhood.”
The band was formed in 2016; Shabaka had been flying to Johannesburg to play with trumpeter/bandleader Mlangeni, who connected him to musicians displayed above. After several sessions, they recorded the first album. This reunites the group in an outing that, like much of Shabaka’s work with his other bands, is more urgent and unrelenting. The music can be both haunting and brightly energetic, carrying a tribal vibe to convey the message. It’s, of course, rife with percussion, chanting, and the spirited interplay between the two reeds (especially “The Coming of the Strange Ones,” released as a single) and the rhythm section. The introduction of the clarinet on “Run, The Darkness Will Pass,” for example, and the guest spots provide surprising variations on the core sound, most notably in “The Beasts Too Spoke of Suffering” where the instrumentation conveys primal screams.
The album is based in the context of ancient traditions but serves as a condemning statement on the course of modern society. Shabaka says this is “What happens after that point when life as we know it can’t continue.” Its messaging is almost diametrically opposed to the spiritual optimism of Pharaoh Sanders’ great 1969 Impulse! album Karma, yet, ironically, the lasting effect is similar due to the inspired, passionate playing.
