essay: LYNDON LAROUCHE WILL GET YOU IF YOU DON'T WATCH OUT

Lyndon LaRouche Will Get You If You Don’t Watch Out

John Pietaro

Lyndon LaRouche is dead. There’s a sentence his followers would’ve hoped to keep from the media, but at age 96, the myths, paranoia, and smoke and mirrors about him have finally faded. LaRouche, this bizarre firebrand who never met a conspiracy he didn’t like, was able to build a career by melding social conflict into opportunistic fundraising.  The New York Times’ obit called LaRouche “the quixotic, apocalyptic leader of a cultlike political organization” and acknowledged his anti-Semitism, insults against Native Americans, and hatred of the environmentalist movement and British royals. Jacobin magazine cited LaRouche’s “aimless and contorted reign” in its description of the man.  But that’s just a start. Widely acknowledged as a neo-fascist, LaRouche’s early interest in Marxism turned horribly astern by the 1970s. In the decades since, he partnered with the KKK, engaged in racist dogma, denounced the Holocaust as a Jewish hoax, preached nuclear war against the Soviet Union and blamed both the global drug trade and Satanism on a secret plan founded by UK monarchy.

LaRouche cast a practice of homemade psych-ops to maintain a frightening control over leaders in his organization. He also railed against rock music and as late as 1978 cited the Beatles as an untalented arm of the British government he so despised. Mind you, this is eight years after their actual, legal dissolution. Further, during the height of the AIDS crisis, LaRouche called for those living with the illness to be condemned and segregated. Later, his organization was threaded through the fanatical rightist Tea Party and he spent years stating that Barack Obama was, indeed, Hitler. Somehow, he sought the Democratic Party line for his droning political pursuits and craftily used words like “labor” in his regular outreach. Though patently fruitless, the ‘LaRouche for President’ campaigns were as tenacious as was the candidate’s delusional platform. To most, it seemed that Lyndon LaRouche would never go away and had always been there.

One cold December afternoon in 1999, I was disturbed to find a LaRouche campaign table in my own Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. While the neighborhood was at that time known for its older Republican voter base, a younger, more professional population had already begun moving in, turning the tide. The area’s then-City Councilman was a notorious conservative who’d sought to name the 69^th Street pier after Ronald Reagan, but his lack of success in this venture offered increasing hope to ethnically diverse Bay Ridge progressives. The increased tolerance may have been missed by the LaRouche camp as it sought attract allies to his schizophrenic political plane.

That day, as I strolled Bay Ridge’s busy shopping district of 86^th Street near 5^th Avenue, the holiday lights sparkled in many colors overhead, and each store’s sound system jingled, galloped and swooned. And somehow in the midst of this, sitting tall above the crowd, there lingered Linden LaRouche. As he stared beadily at the conspiracy theory literature laid out before him, a blank-looking disciple engaged passersby with the question: “Are you a Democrat?”, seeking signatures toward the ballot line. I was drawn to this like a roadside accident.

After approaching the table and answering affirmatively, I had a question of my own. Pointing to LaRouche, I loudly asked the follower “How is it possible that this fascist and racist can call himself a ‘Democrat’?” Within scant seconds, LaRouche was on his feet and seemed to keep on standing as all 6’7” of him was suddenly millimeters from my face. Wearing the rapid-fire fury of a junkyard guard dog, LaRouche shouted, hurling profanities and accusations that spoke volumes of his brand of governance. His teeth gnashed, the candidate’s face remained threateningly close to my own, the rage only increasing as I refused to step back or even blink. His eyes of Aryan blue burnt intently through the square lenses of his glasses, the gnarled, greying brow unified in senseless umbrage.

“LaRouche, are you going to hit me?!”, I asked loudly, assuring the attention of confused holiday shoppers. “You’re in my space. Are you going to hit me?!” The throngs began slowing down, the crowd of interest he’d hoped for now awaiting his response to my pointed questions. I looked at the people behind me and then shouted my question again, asking if an actual presidential candidate has ever acted in this fashion (this being well before Trump). He scanned the growing crowd, looking into my eyes with utter hate, as his disciple grabbed the tall man’s arm, encouraging him to calm down. “He’s no one. No one!”, she repeatedly told LaRouche. “No one at all!”

Through the madness, I kept my own voice calm, recognizing how insane my opponent in the struggle already appeared. He became only more incensed when I clarified that I never raised my voice, never used profanities in this exchange—this was all him. “You called me a fucking fascist, you FUCKING BASTARD!”, LaRouche resoinded, screaming above the traffic noise, ignoring the pleas of the disciple. “WHO SENT YOU? WHO SENT YOU HERE?!”, he paranoically asked again and again. My answer only roiled him further. “No one sent me here. I live here. I believe in the First Amendment, but why are you here?”

LaRouche’s next statement was particularly shocking; already drowning in a sea of irrationality, he asked: “Why are you calling me a fascist?”, defiantly stating “I’m not Italian!”. I angrily asked what ethnicity has to do with this, adding “Are you trying to put down Italians in a neighborhood where many Italian Americans live?!” He couldn’t have known my heritage, but just imagine anyone engaging in this kind of argument while trying to gain signatures and spread charm? Ultimately, to avoid the entire exchange, LaRouche slid back down behind his makeshift grandstand, a street corner soap-box befitting of a withered, desperate bigot, angry, delusional and violent. There sat a man whose political convictions lurked in the weakest links of any ideology.

His seething simmered to mere acid reflux, LaRouche grumbled and stared down again at his pallid campaign literature. As he hissed quietly, the wide-eyed, plainly-dressed apostle stared on with indignation before breaking into a new automated smile for the next passerby, “Oh hello, ma’am, are you a Democrat?”

Article: James Newton

NYC Jazz Record, Artist feature, January 2019

James Newton on the Trail of Dolphy. Again.

by John Pietaro

The specter of Eric Dolphy looms large and haunts indiscriminately. Some 55 years after his untimely passing, the global jazz community remains fascinated with this giant of the music, of conceptions far afield. Not the least among his followers is flutist and composer James Newton, who has always attested to Dolphy as the force that led him to the instrument. “Eric was and remains among the greatest of flute players. He understood the history, the future and global sounds, influencing everyone”, Newton explained, still happily under the spell.

‘Eric Dolphy-Musical Prophet: The Expanded 1963 New York Studio Sessions’ (Resonance) is a project that James and JoAnn Newton labored over for several years. This three-CD (or LP) boxed set hit the bins in December to great fanfare. It stands as the first opportunity in 30 years for listeners to hear previously unreleased work, both as a stand-alone disc and in context of the two artful but overlooked Dolphy records, ‘Iron Man’ and ‘Conversations’, the products of the ’63 sessions. According to Newton, the project was inasmuch a labor of necessity as one of love: “It’s been a long journey for myself and my wife JoAnn. She’s a lawyer and helped with research and legal issues. She is also a great Dolphy fan—when we first met, that was one of the things that sealed the deal!”, he said. The commitment of both begat the final document’s fine details. “I have to commend Zev Feldman and Resonance Records for giving it such deserved dignity”. In addition to the three discs, the set is accompanied by a 100-page book filled with statements by Dolphy cohorts and the insight of a half-century. 

In 1964, as Eric Dolphy embarked on what was to be his final performances, the European tour with Charles Mingus, he left a series of scores and reels of tape from his 1963 sessions with close friends Hale and Juanita Smith, for safe keeping. When the tragic news of Dolphy’s passing came, the pair quietly held on to this bounty for decades. Recognizing the need to have this music go public, the Smiths notified Newton, who immediately reviewed the find.

“The scores came first—the tapes a little later”, he explained. “Maybe four years ago we got permission from the Dolphy Foundation to donate the scores to the Library of Congress. Then the focus fell onto the recordings”. Newton explained that Hale Smith, a noted composer and educator, was one of his mentors. Following Smith’s death in 2009, Newton remains close to his widow. “If it weren’t for Hale and Juanita, this music might have remained on the shelf forever”. Like an earlier Dolphy discovery they shared with Newton, that which he produced in 1987 as ‘Other Aspects’ (Blue Note), the ‘Musical Prophet’ boxed set offers a new vision of the artist. “These recordings show us the crucial 1963-4 period where the language was just exploding in new ways”, Newton said. “I treasure these recordings. We chose only the strongest outtakes, the ones at the highest level, to honor Eric’s great heritage. That was our litmus test”. With this release, powerful and historic alternate takes of such titles as “Mandrake”, “Burning Spear”, “Alone Together” and the much revered “Jitterbug Waltz” are now available. The boxed set, in total, is analogous to a master class.

For James Newton, the master class began long ago. Although still in grade school at the time of Dolphy’s death, he embarked on a personal study while in his teens. Drawn to the instrument, he moved to the flute from electric bass, which he’d been playing in a Hendrix cover band. Newton became engaged in LA’s rich jazz heritage, that which was spawned by the Creole migration from New Orleans and Texas, thrived under the influence of master teacher Lloyd Reese and progressed through Lester Young, Dexter Gordon, Chico Hamilton and Horace Tapscott. “Plus, we had Stravinsky, Schoenberg and William Grant Still, the impact of the film industry, and history of gospel”.

Newton, once immersed in the music community, was welcomed by the likes of David Murray, Bobby Bradford, John Carter and particularly Arthur Blythe. He also sought out serious tutelage. “Buddy Collette was my teacher (he’d been a student of Reese). I started with him at age 19 and it lasted about 15 years. Even after I moved to New York, whenever I’d come back to LA, I always took lessons with him”. Collette was not only an esteemed jazz artist, but a staple in broadcast and recording studios, offering a wide palette to his many students. “Buddy taught Eric, Charles Mingus, Charles Lloyd”. Frank Morgan, too. “He left an incredible imprint on me, like a second father”. Newton recalled warmly. “I had a very strong father but when he passed, Buddy kind of stepped in for me”.

After completing studies at Cal State LA, Newton joined Stanley Crouch’s Black Music Infinity and then made his recording debut in 1977. A year later he relocated to New York and founded the legendary trio with pianist Anthony Davis and cellist Abdul Wadud. “Oh man, that band was so much fun! When I look back on it, I’m reminded of the deep connection”. Newton was one of the celebrated young lions of the ‘80s, touring the globe with a wealth of artists. Since then, he’s recorded some twenty-five albums as a flutist and conducted his own compositions on others. After a left-hand affliction limited his playing, Newton began focusing exclusively on composition; his latest recording ‘the Manuel of Light’ was just released. “It’s a chamber work containing jazz influences and two versions of ‘Amazing Grace’, one dedicated to President Obama”. He’s also been hard at work on contemporary symphonic works, however, forays into the past have not ceased either. Surely not with respect to his first and greatest influence. “I’m so pleased to say that the world now knows more about Eric Dolphy than it did before”

CD review: Arturo O'Farrill "Fandango at the Wall"

NYC Jazz Record, December 2018

ARTURO O’FARRILL and the Afro-Latin Jazz Orchestra, Fandango at the Wall: 

A Soundtrack for the United States, Mexico and Beyond (Resilience Music, 2018)

CD review by John Pietaro

O’Farrill’s double-CD extravaganza is as strong a celebration of Latin culture as it is a response to the odious rhetoric spewing out of DC. Released shortly before the mid-term elections, as Trump daily vilifies a refugees’ caravan as a “criminal invasion”, this global statement is timely, indeed. The liner notes by producer/multi-instrumentalist Kabir Sehgal, reminds us that complacency about such antagonism is dangerous “because this distrust and suspicion, left unchecked, can turn into darker forces”. With that O’Farrill sought to create an event based on fandango, the annual musical and cultural event at the border of Veracruz and San Diego. He and Sehgal partnered with Jorge Francisco Castillo, the founder of fandango, in this “project which tears down the human-made walls that form between people”. This album is the first of a three-part project seeking to reinforce cross-border relations between the US and Mexico; to follow are a history book (with a foreword by David Brinkley) and documentary about the son jarocho musicians of Veracruz.

It’s impossible to separate this work from its resistance politics, but the bacchanal built into most every cut insures the joy of pure listening. The melodies, both soaring and lush, are realized through bristling orchestrations of churning rhythms, global voicings, flowing improv and top-tier soloists. The strength of O’Farrill’s 18-piece Afro Latin Jazz Orchestra engaging with thirty international musicians over thirty-three cuts will set stereos afire. Adding to the urgency, much here was recorded live. Among the guests are violinist Regina Carter, oud player Rahim Al Haj, hip hop artist Ana Tijoux, violin trio the Villalobos Brothers, cellist Akua Dixon, a wealth of son jarocho musicians and many more. Of course, O’Farrill’s band swings and burns throughout.

The O’Farrill band kicks into a full-throttle “Xalapa Bang!”, serious big band jazz built on sizzling samba. Vocalist Mandy Gonzalez takes the lead along with soloists O’Farrill, the Villalobos Brothers (who also composed the work) and bari saxist Larry Bustamante—and during the montuno section, drummer Vince Cherico absolutely takes flight. “Somos Sur”, a compelling Latin/Hip Hop fusion features the throaty voice of Ana Tijoux tangling with a mariachi-influenced brass section and the explosive trombones of Rocky Amer and Frank Cohen. Within the confluence of sounds and cultures, you may note a Central European tinge within the horn riffs. A focal point of this collection, however, is O’Farrill’s enthralling “Invisible Suite” placed over three cuts of the first disc: “Invisible Cities”, “Free Falling Borderless” and “Invisible Beings”. This is a deftly arranged modern orchestral work powered by bristling Latin rhythms and smoking solos with ethereal segments and the silvery vocals of the Young People’s Chorus of New York City. Here, Regina Carter shines as if voluntarily possessed by the spirit of Leroy Jenkins. Later sections of the piece also incorporate the New Haven String Quartet, bassist Gregg August and trumpet player Seneca Black.

The album includes so many stunning musicians and speaks out on so many relevant issues, that it’s impossible to cover all in a single review. Suffice to say that “Fandango at the Wall” exemplifies political art as successful in its creative aims as in its demand for social justice. As Sehgal states, “we as artists and activists continues to create the world in which we want to live”.

CREDITS:

Arturo O’Farrill- director, composer, conductor, arr, pno, kybd;

AFRO LATIN JAZZ ENSEMBLE: Rocky Amer-trb; Gregg August-acous bs; Alejandro Aviles-alto/sop sax, fl; Seneca Black-trp; Larry Bustamante-bari sx, bs clar; Vince Cherico-dr; Frank Cohen-trb; Bryan Davis-trp; Carlos Jiminez-congas, perc; Chad Lefkowitz-Brown-ten sx, clar; Carlos Maldonado-perc; Rafi Malkiel-trb; Earl McIntyre-bs trb; David Neves-trp; Juan Renta-ten sx, fl; James Seeley-trp; Alexa Tarentino-alto/sop sx, fl.

SPECIAL GUESTS: Rahim Al Haj-oud, voc, composer; Regina Carter-vln; Akua Dixon-clo; Humberto Flores-gtr, jarana, composer; Mandy Gonzalez-voc; Jose Gurria-Cardenas-guest conductor/composer; Issa Malluf-perc; Sahba Motallebi-setar; Antonio Sanchez-composer, dr; Sourena Sefati-santur; Kabir Sehgal-bs, Leona, voc, perc, composer, arr; Ana Tyoux-voc, composer; Alberto Villalobos-vln, vla, composer, voc; Ernesto Villalobos-vln, voc, composer; Luis Villalobos-vln, voc, composer

SAN JARACHO ARTISTS: Patricia Hidalgo Belli-jarano, voc, composer; Ramon Gutierrez Hernandez-requinto, voc, composer; Taco Utrera-leona, voc; Fernando Guadarrama Olivera-jarana, voc, composer; Jorge Francisco Castillo-jarana, voc; Wendy Cao Romero-jarana, zapateado; Martha Vega Hernandez-zapateado; Jacob Hernandez-marimbul; Jacob Hernandz-marimbul; Citali Maribel Canales-voc, zapateado; Alfredo Herrera (Godo)-perc, voc; Padi Jackson-voc, zapateado; Eduardo Castellanos-jarana, voc; Minerva Alejandro Perez-zapateado; Gabriel Garcia-tres Cubano; Zenen Zeferino-jarana, voc; Claudia Montes-jarana, voc; Julia del Palacio-zapateado; Sergio Ramirez-gtr, jarano

GUEST ARTISTS: Livia Almeida-ten sx, fl; Scott Engelbright-trp; Sharon Moe-fr horn; Maulik Zaveri-tablas

CHORUS: Cenzontle Ensemble Escenico Vocal, Sistema AUKA del HBC; Young People’s Chorus of NYC

OVERDUB PIANISTS: Sabina Chi, Dana Saul, Arturo O’Farrill