Uploaded July 2025 | Updated September 2026, 1 hour ago
Recorded at the public debut of David Murray's Big Band at the Public Theatre, New York, 2 July 1978, this audience recording features Baraka in a trio with Murray on tenor saxophone and bassist Fred Hopkins, reading a poem from 'The Dead Lecturer' (1964). Baraka, Murray and Steve McCall made the album 'New Music-New Poetry' in 1982: this is a rare recording of Baraka recording material from an earlier phase in his career.
The poem is dedicated to Robert F. Williams, president of the Monroe, NC chapter of the NAACP, author of 'Negroes with Guns,' and an early advocate of armed resistance against white supremacy of the KKK. Williams went into exile after an attack from white racists, for which he and fellow defendant Mae Mallory were, with the distortion typical of the US imperial state, falsely accused of kidnapping a white couple who had taken shelter with them. The year before, Baraka and Williams were part of a delegation organised by the Fair Play to Cuba Committee who took a trip to Cuba in July 1960, a story Baraka tells in the essay 'Cuba Libre', which marked an important stage in his political coming to consciousness. The cause of Williams and his fellow defendant, Mae Mallory, who remained in the US, was also taken up in benefit readings by the Umbra Poets' Workshop. From Cuba, Williams broadcast the show 'Radio Free Dixie' and continued to agitate against white supremacy, and to link the struggles against colonialism and neo-colonialism in Cuba and on the African and Asian continents to the struggle against US racism. Williams' story is told Timothy B. Tyson's book 'Radio Free Dixie' (1999).
From the poem:
"For the well that marks the burned stores. For the deadly idiot of compromise
who shrieks compassion, and bids me love my neighbor. Even beyond the meaning
of such act as would give all my father's dead ash to fertilize their bilious
land. Such act as would give me legend, "This is the man who saved us
Spared us from the disappearance of the sixteenth note, the destruction
of the scale. This is the man who against the black pits of despairing genius
cried, "Save the Popular Song." [...]
I am not moved. I will not move to save them. There is no
"melody." Only the foot stomped, the roaring harmonies of need. The
hand banged on the table, waved in the air. The teeth pushed against
the lip. The face and fingers sweating. "Let me alone," is praise enough
for these musicians."
Offered solely for educational purposes: please let me know if this infringes anyone's copyright, and I'll remove.
Recorded at the public debut of David Murray's Big Band at the Public Theatre, New York, 2 July 1978, this audience recording features Baraka in a trio with Murray on tenor saxophone and bassist Fred Hopkins, reading a poem from 'The Dead Lecturer' (1964). Baraka, Murray and Steve McCall made the album 'New Music-New Poetry' in 1982: this is a rare recording of Baraka recording material from an earlier phase in his career.
The poem is dedicated to Robert F. Williams, president of the Monroe, NC chapter of the NAACP, author of 'Negroes with Guns,' and an early advocate of armed resistance against white supremacy of the KKK. Williams went into exile after an attack from white racists, for which he and fellow defendant Mae Mallory were, with the distortion typical of the US imperial state, falsely accused of kidnapping a white couple who had taken shelter with them. The year before, Baraka and Williams were part of a delegation organised by the Fair Play to Cuba Committee who took a trip to Cuba in July 1960, a story Baraka tells in the essay 'Cuba Libre', which marked an important stage in his political coming to consciousness. The cause of Williams and his fellow defendant, Mae Mallory, who remained in the US, was also taken up in benefit readings by the Umbra Poets' Workshop. From Cuba, Williams broadcast the show 'Radio Free Dixie' and continued to agitate against white supremacy, and to link the struggles against colonialism and neo-colonialism in Cuba and on the African and Asian continents to the struggle against US racism. Williams' story is told Timothy B. Tyson's book 'Radio Free Dixie' (1999).
From the poem:
"For the well that marks the burned stores. For the deadly idiot of compromise
who shrieks compassion, and bids me love my neighbor. Even beyond the meaning
of such act as would give all my father's dead ash to fertilize their bilious
land. Such act as would give me legend, "This is the man who saved us
Spared us from the disappearance of the sixteenth note, the destruction
of the scale. This is the man who against the black pits of despairing genius
cried, "Save the Popular Song." [...]
I am not moved. I will not move to save them. There is no
"melody." Only the foot stomped, the roaring harmonies of need. The
hand banged on the table, waved in the air. The teeth pushed against
the lip. The face and fingers sweating. "Let me alone," is praise enough
for these musicians."
Offered solely for educational purposes: please let me know if this infringes anyone's copyright, and I'll remove.
![Joseph Jarman - Non-Cognitive Aspects of the City
Info
Joseph Jarman (recitation, alto sax) Christopher Gaddy (piano) Charles Clark (bass) Thurman Barker (drums).
Recorded October 20th 1966, Chicago Sound Studios.
Song For, released on Delmark in 1967, is one of the earliest documents of the Chicago-based Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM), and was pianist Christopher Gaddys only recording. Both he and bassist Charles Clark would die when aged just 24, in 1968 and 1969 respectively: Gaddy of internal disorders sustained during US Army service, Clark (who was the youngest member of the AACM) of a cerebral hemorrhage. Jarman, Barker (and the other musicians on the date, Fred Anderson and Steve McCall), meanwhile, would go on to have long careers in experimental jazz.
Jarmans poem Non-Cognitive Aspects of the City (subsequently the title of a 21st-century Art Ensemble of Chicago album, and the subject of a setting by Roscoe Mitchell for orchestra and baritone singer) is much more than just the Black Dada Nihilismus rip-off one reviewer dismissed it as being. Jarmans delivery is, like Leroi Jones/Amiri Barakas, deceptively quiet, almost menacing; but, whereas Barakas poem (and its companion piece, Black Art) was a deliberately inflammatory, confrontational work, Jarmans is more reflective, concerned, like Jones, with European modernism (dada/new word out of the twenties of chaos) but, though acutely aware of racial concerns (returned in the suntan jar suggesting, perhaps, the white mans desire for the exotic trappings of blackness whilst remaining truly white - everything but the burden), less tied to nationalistic cries for action (exit the tenderness for power/ black or white). Likewise, while some might dismiss this as beat poetry, based on a superficial understanding of its technical workings and general ambiance, in fact, the connection between music and words is actually, it could be argued, more fundamental than in the somewhat tentative experiments of Jack Kerouac or Kenneth Patchen from the previous decade.
As Sean Bonney puts it an essay named after Jarmans poem and published in the online poetics journal Pores: Even with a good poet such as Kerouac, whose writing was exemplary in finding a literary mirror of what music can do, the music is reduced to an accompaniment, and while supposedly subservient to the words, actually carries them and, essentially, does their work. An exploitative relationship that destroys the musics own systems of thought, and where the analogies with capitalist division of labour are absolutely clear. [However], in the most militant periods of the 1960s, poetry began to appear with more and more frequency on radical jazz records, and managed to escape the problems of jazz-poetry we mentioned above. The poems, in recordings such as Joseph Jarmans Non-Cognitive Aspects of the City, in Barbara Simmons work with Jackie McLean, and in Barakas own work with The New York Art Quartet, Sunny Murray and Sun Ra, were able to be incorporated into the sonic field in such a way that they became one equal element in the collective of voices that made up the piece. The music was no longer there as an accompaniment that allowed the poem to sound greater than it actually was, but would respond to the words only inasmuch as the poem would respond to the music. The poem would push the music into clear speech, and the music in its turn would take that speech into places that it wouldnt ordinarily be able to get to, thus refusing the too easy fixion of meaning that a less equal partnership of music and words would be unable to get beyond.
Photograph of Joseph Jarman (c) Amir Bey, 2009 Joseph Jarman - Non-Cognitive Aspects of the City](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Jk5J9f5LFpI/mqdefault.jpg)







![Priaulx Rainier - Due Canti e Finale (1977)
Priaulx Rainier - Due Canti e Finale, for violin and orchestra (1976 - 1977)
0:00 Presenter introduction
2:07 I: Cantos I
11:20 II: Interlude I
13:37 III:Cantos II
23:13 IV and V: Recitative and Finale
Yehudi Menuhin (violin)
Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
Sir Charles Groves (conductor)
“Priaulx was asked by Yehudi Menuhin to write a violin concerto. She did not answer immediately; having been a violinist, she felt it would be difficult to invent fresh ideas for the instrument. However, she decided to accept, calling the piece ‘Due Canti e Finale’ (Two Songs and Finale) because, as she explained, the violin is essentially a singing voice. The work also differed from a classical concerto in that there were no heavy orchestral sections, the orchestra taking part in a kind of dialogue with the solo violin. Menuhin wrote about the concerto in a ‘Radio Times’ comment:
‘I owe Priaulx Rainier’s delightful Concerto my wife who read that this wonderful composer, though a former violinist, had never written a concerto for the instrument and suggested I should commission one. The result is a fascinating work, beautifully suited to the violin sound’.
At a pre-concert talk Priaulx herself described the work as a dual [sic] between the solo violin with its lyrical and decorative writing, and the orchestra, which is more fragmented and incisive. Although the title suggests a three-movement work, it is in fact in five movements—the three main ones are linked by a whimsical interlude and hushed recitative”.
(From ‘Come and Listen to the Stars Singing: Priaulx Rainier - A Pictorial Biography’ (1988), written by Rainier’s partner June Opie.)
Recording taken from radio broadcast of the world premiere recording on September 8, 1977 at the Edinburgh Festival, performed by the piece’s dedicatee, Yehudi Menuhin, and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Sir Charles Grove. Priaulx Rainier - Due Canti e Finale (1977)](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/N69wVY47HW0/mqdefault.jpg)

