Detroit Voices, Part I: Faruq Z. Bey Ancient Warrior & Griot

Wïïï FïïTTTï FT! T o be in the presence of Faruq Z. Bey is an extraordinary experience. There is a certain mystique about the 55-year-old Detroit composer-poet, a definite aura, and his fame has permeated the underground jazz scène for three decades. Tal), elegant, delibérate in his most minute moves, Faruq is getting ready for a gig at the Gold Dollar Bar on Cass Ave. in Detroit. The place seems deserted and yet I sense a great deal of anticipation in the air: Faruq and six other musicians are warming up. The sound is already awesome. Something important is about to take place: music of the highest order, art, life.I can' ttakemyeyes off Faruq. He moves around, always accompanied by his sax. They 're one. They form a couple - quiet, moving in unisón, softly. Faruq has style, he has "contour" (a word he loves to use). I think of African statuary, a mélange of power and softness, polished, the outside and the inside are one. The pieces unfold like a long tapestry of sounds and moods. Shades of África and the Middle East coalesce and fuse in harmonious compositions; the whole atmosphere is serene and deep, almost mystical. And as always with Faruq, the word is never too far: Tales of Zinjanthropus galacticus pararealities grey-brear on g-erz rolling vapor mists scudding across the face of the nascent sun rising as iffrom an electric toaster in gods shirt pocket Sir-real counts dinars as prayer beads contemplative the pilot of g-erz has cursed this vessel tho he be an unlikely candidate vain dark androgenous wadding contemptuous toward singularity a saint absurd After this astonishing jazz performance at the Gold Dollar Bar, we move to the First Unitarian Universalist Church on Cass Avenue (where poet Ron Allen lives). A magical dialogue takes shape between us. There is no ambiguity in Faruq's thought process: "I consider myself a kind of regional chauvinist ... I'm about Detroit," he exclaims. And yet the other pole of his '"rhythmic consonance" goes back to ancient África, ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia. Here lies the secret for Faruq's coherent philosophy of life. His roots are always with him, present, feeding his daily thought, his daily art, his daily raison d'être. And it is this meeting of the old and the new, this sweet mélange of "brut" and refinement which gives Faruq most of his charm and charisma. For him it is a matter of "internal cohesión" of "rhythmic consonance," to be one with the universe. The poet has to find this magie point where "time-space" coincide to speak the truth. Faruq believes in truth and there is no doubt in his mind that it will prevail. Lies and deceit cannot win in the end. Racism will be defeated, he says, because "it's irrational . . . it's a lie." We talk about "Ebonics" since it is so much in the (polluted) air. Faruq quotes the famous and extraordinary poet Amiri Baraka (LeRoi Jones) who said simply : "A language is a logia" Obvious statement and yet Faruq explains that for African-Americans "Eubonics" (Ebonics) make perfect sense although it "violates all the English rules." "Everybody says 'you just can't talk.' You just abusing our language, the pristine queen's language," Faruq says. "When they say 'he be goin' dere' ... that's a profound philosophical proposition to say 'he be' not 'he is going' because 'he be' is the axial term. Being has always been a very, very powerful concept in our African philosophical and cosmológica! attitudes: just being, period, the whole concept of being in the first place." Faruq has built his life on primal principies. His music and his poetry are one. In the beginning was the word and the word was music and the word was poetry. For Faruq, music and poetry are like "painting metaphoric frame-scapes ... doing a giant painting, with all these subtle inflections, and all these little shadings and colorings." "What you're doing," he says, "is trying to trigger something in your audience that creates a reaction of some sort that they feel . . . a psychic response." When Faruq succeeds he evokes from his audience - and from inside himself - a response he calis "rhythmic consonance," a feeling he describes as being "one with the universe" or "in synchronization with the frequencies - the major rhythms of the universe." Like any artist with a well developed visión Faruq employs techniques that he describes with a language that is personal, and to the casual observer, dense and perhaps cryptic. "A lot of it can be defined, or can be isolated and determined by mere physics," he explains. "Some intervals are very unstable - physically unstable; they créate a tensión - and some intervals resol ve that tensión. That's the way I write music." Music, poetry it's all the same for Faruq and he mixes his own writing and his own composition in a superb manner. Faruq says that he does not waste his time with politics or even racism and that the only way to combat them is through poetry. Poetry will defeat politicians and their lies, according to Faruq, and similarly racism will f all since it has no genetic component but is a taughl behavior. "The whole thing is just a matter of -environment." he says. "In other words, because you are of an African genetic ground you aren't predisposed to do a damn thing but breathe." The dialogue is getting more and more intense and harmonious. Wc talk of poetry, of Amiri Baraka and T.S. Eliot. "As far as poetry is concerned," Faruq says, "I like LeRoi Jones (even though I can 't stand his politics). I like T.S. Eliot even though I'd shoot him in the morning if I had to. Yeah, but he's a heil of a writer." We talk of his influences and Faruq names "John Coltrane, Malcolm X and my daddy." And again Faruq mentions his rich mélange of old and new, his African heritage. He works to reconcile his African heritage and his African-American present-day life. His roots, says Faruq, help him to survive and "grow" in this "modern" environment. "People say Detroit is a dead thing," he says, "but they ignore the fact that the joint is full of people. Like I'm here, and I mean to be here." Detroiters are survivors, explains Faruq, and it is their struggle which gives the city its character and for him makes it an inspirational and logical place to practice his art. This modern "griot," this sage will continue to bring together future generations of musicians and poets along the Cass Corridor. Faruq, of course, became famous with his former band Griot Galaxy with musicians like Tani Tabbal and Jaribu Shahid who have now left Detroit for "greener horizons." Faruq has remained in Detroit and continúes to play with extraordinary musicians of various generations. Guitarist Mikhal Caldwell is young enough to be his son but their relationship is heartwarming. Faruq is the idol, the grand old man, the reference. His present regular band is a quartet called The Conspiracy Sound Ensemble . And Faruq says he has nothing much to do with "latterday Bebop people" or the likes of Winton Marsalis although he recognizes that it takes "an awful lot of work to do that." But he would hate his music to sound like a "little machine." "Sorry," says Faruq, "I want it to sound like a big growin' thing!" And that is the "organic" aspect of Faruq's art. It is always growing, always changing, simple, subtle, sophisticated, like him. Going from Griot Galaxy to The Conspiracy Sound Ensemble, it has taken Faruq a quarter-century of research in music and poetry to rediscover the flavor of the original word, the return to the primeval magma Faruq is very optimistic about Detroit and the world in general. He has seen many other places. L. A. for instance, which he calis "the biggest piece of fluff I ever seen." No, Faruq wil] stay here, pillar of strength in this earthiest of places - Detroit, Michigan - where Faruq Z. Bey found his "rhythmic consonance." Here it is: today I saw a great "U" in the sky the sun too caught repose in that we II ... is it midnite y et are ourfears to go ungrounded when are the demons to present themselves the witches ride souls where are the demons our fears the illuminati masonics rothschildren our captors is it midnight yet for this we abandoned love & Chalie Smith African to entrophy Bik oct dark rolling masses harsh & hurting blue NOTE: Faruq Z. Bey and The Conspiracy Sound Ensemble will play in Ann Arbor at Galerie Jacques, 616 Wesley (665-9889) on Feb. 7 at 9:30 pm in conjunction with the Jaber opening (see Arwulf article, next page). The poem by Faruq Z. Bey quoted in the article, though untitled, is referred to by its first line, "Tales of Zinjanthropus." Robert Anderson collaborated on this article.