The Genius of Chief Adjuah
Not jazz, but stretch music
What if you envisioned a new instrument, or let’s say several because those available just weren’t sufficient for your musical concepts? And then you created them and performed with them.
And what if you were also a world-class musician (multiple Grammy noms) who also happens to be an incredibly generous band leader willing to share your hard-earned spot on the stage and lift up other, younger musicians? Add to the list composer, arranger, record producer, record label owner, community organizer, and someone who genuinely cares about the human race, and you have the unbelievably talented multi-hyphenate, Chief Adjuah.
Born Christian Andre Scott into a well-respected and renowned New Orleans family, according to Wikipedia, “he began performing under the name Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah in 2012 as a way of reflecting his family's West African and Indigenous lineage” and has legally changed his name to Xian aTunde Adjuah.
Former New York Times music critic Giovanni Russonello wrote,
“Adjuah has worked for years to convince the world that he’s not a ‘jazz’ musician at all: The word’s racist history is now widely acknowledged; he says ‘stretch music’ is a more appropriate catchall for the alloy of African influences, Black American improvisation, hip-hop, indie rock and more that he has been polishing for the past two decades.”
The first time we caught Chief Adjuah’s show live was a few years back, when he and his fellow musicians crammed the small stage at the Blue Note New York to jam our ears and stretch our hearts with his incredible musicality and joyfulness.
This past Friday, we saw him here, in Chicago, at the Logan Center for Arts on the University of Chicago campus. All of that exuberance and epic talent were once again on view.
Both times we’ve seen him perform; he has closed out the show with his composition "The Last Chieftain (for Big Chiefs Donald Harrison Sr. & Jr.)," a tribute to his grandfather who did so much for his hometown of New Orleans.
When we saw Chief Adjuah and his band at Blue Note, the arrangement was similar to the recording on his 2020 album, Axiom, featuring piano and flute. (That album happened to be recorded at the Blue Note the year before we saw him perform there).
Here in Chicago, he introduced the song by saying he wrote it to “pay homage to the fact that we are either each other's salvation or demise.” In last week’s rendition—backed by his band including Cecil Alexander, electric guitar; Ryoma Takenaga, stand-up bass and electric bass; Joe Dyson, drums; and Weedie Braimah, djembe and percussion—the song took a Jimi Hendrix-ish twist that brought down the house and pulled people to their feet for a standing ovation. It was an extraordinary experience of Chief Adjuah’s genius, generosity, and joy.
If you ever have the opportunity to see Chief Adjuah perform with any configuration of musicians, run, don’t walk. And someone, give this man a MacArthur Genius Grant. Please!
Because he is, in a word: Genius.
Sounds so awesome!