Review of Mulatu Astatke – The Father of Ethiopian Jazz Still Innovates During His Farewell Tour | London Jazz Festival

AThere is absolutely nothing predictable about this group: at 81 years old, Mulatu Astatki is still pushing the boundaries of the genre. Even on his farewell tour, there was no easing of matters either. The father of Ethiopian jazz and his band immediately play “Tsome Diguwa” as if to conjure a thunderstorm, which in turn collides directly with “Zèlèsègna Dèwèl,” a piece written in the Ethiopian tradition in the fourth century, whose harmonic minor note sounds almost Arabic.

Astatke has a serious demeanor. Unsentimentally, he only speaks to introduce songs or direct the band like a teacher. But he looks at his vibraphone carefully and puzzled, and plays it with great familiarity but almost as if he were discovering it for the first time. His fascination with his instruments captivates the audience in turn. During Yèkèrmo Sèw – which appropriately translates to “man of experience and wisdom” – Astatke’s solo fills the room, like water changing shape.

The set is also a showcase for his band. This song, as well as “Nètsanèt”, highlight the range of instruments and their individual abilities, with solos by James Arbin (saxophone), Byron Whalen (trumpet), Danny Keane (cello pluck), and Alexander Hawkins (grand piano). For Kolon, an Ethiopian wedding song, two Ethiopian musicians join the band, playing the maseneko (a single-stringed, bowed lute-like instrument) and the karar (a five-stringed harp), and two dancers dressed in traditional clothing enter to delight the audience. For Azmari and Chick Chica, highly technical and experimental solos from Ken and John Edwards (double bass) are interspersed with dance breaks.

It is a collection rich in feeling. Edwards rubs the body of a double bass to produce a cat-like scream, or pulls the bow in a replica of a yawn. Richard Baker introduces Ethiopian percussion conga drums, kinare seeds, ojin (metal bell), and dundon “talking” drums, creating a rich texture throughout. For Yègellé Tezeta, he also sings in Ethiopian call-and-response with Edwards’ conversational voice. Astatki introduces the penultimate song, Mulato, as “a piece I composed for myself”: it sounds like a wandering train of thought with twinkling bells and a mysterious keyboard.

There is an exciting emergence in Yekatit. Where you might expect its crescendo to be resolved by crashing drums, Astatki instead channels drummer John Scott in a muted, controlled whisper of cymbals. This is true to the reputation Astatki has built over a career spanning five decades: a whirlwind of experimentation and excitement, but always with deliberation and control.