Shabaka and the Ancestor's We Were Sent Here by History
How can jazz continue to evolve as an artform in the 21st Century? My musical patron saint and prophet, the British-Barbadian saxophonist and clarinetist Shabaka Hutchings, has provided a number of compelling and innovative answers to this question over the last decade, with albums from Sons of Kemet, The Comet Is Coming and most recently, Shabaka and the Ancestors, that are all destined to be classics revered by jazz scholars hereafter.
Firmly at home on Impulse! following the release of 2018’s hypnotic modal masterpiece Your Queen Is a Reptile with Sons of Kemet and 2019’s space rock odyssey Trust in the Lifeforce of the Deep Mystery with The Comet Is Coming, We Were Sent Here by History is Hutching’s latest offering into the hallowed halls of the Impulse! discography and first with the Ancestors. A meditation on humanity’s coming extinction released against the backdrop of the global coronavirus pandemic, the music that fills these dual LPs is urgent, harrowing, and at times, otherworldly.
This angst is felt immediately on the album’s opening track, the shifting epic “They Who Must Die,” that finds Shabaka Hutching’s saxophone quoting John Coltrane’s "The Father And The Son And The Holy Ghost" as he readies for battle buoyed by harmonies from Mthunzi Mvubu’s alto sax and incantations called forth by Siyabonga Mthembu. When compared to the spiritual jazz of its predecessor, Wisdom of the Elders, We Were Sent Here by History is still deeply influenced by these sounds, but its character quickly reveals a transformation undergone through the polyrhythmic birthright of Sons of Kemet, a fitting musical vehicle for communicating the gravity of our impending doom.
The eerie “You’ve Been Called” follows, admonishing the listener of the roots of our destruction before asserting its presence with a swirling bop anchored by Ariel Zamonsky’s double bass. This unsettling bridge leads the listener into the contemplative “Go My Heart, Go To Heaven,” the first of the singles released from the album, and one of the most focused of the musical dialogues presented amongst the track list. “Behold, The Deceiver” is also presented in this mold, beginning with yearning saxophone cries that quickly give way to a grimy drum and bass groove before they return again in a swirling display of virtuosity. The polyrhythms extend into the highlight “Run, The Darkness Will Pass,” which provides a stage for Hutching’s breathtaking clarinet playing that moors the albums sonic ship in compelling fashion.
To commence We Were Sent Here by History’s second act, Zamonsky’s bass returns to show us the way on “The Coming of the Strange Ones.” As hypnotic as it is captivating, this tune is propulsive Afro-Latin jazz at its finest, and a more than worthy second single. Hutching’s playing here is as strong as it has ever been, burbling with the ferocity of a predator wholly engaged in the hunt for enlightenment and the prey of brash couplets and lyrical phrases.
The record appears to bide it’s time on the dirge “Beast Too Spoke of Suffering” before launching into the contemplative “We Will Work (On Redefining Manhood),” perhaps the first examination of the patriarchy through tribal chant that this reviewer has ever encountered. Through this lens, the listener gains an appreciation not only for the long history of misogyny, but also perhaps its communal cure. The exhilarating “’Til the Freedom Comes Home” follows, whipping up a raw musical fervor of alto sax, drums and bass that fluctuates at every moment between measured control and absolute chaos before giving way to the impression that we are viewing the world after it has ended, meditating on its demise not with sorrow, but with acceptance and peace. This extends into the mournful “Finally, The Man Cried” and the smoky, hymn-like “Teach Me How to Be Vulnerable,” a solemn contemplation that evokes Pharaoh Sanders as it satisfyingly closes out the album.
If We Were Sent Here by History has one flaw, it is that it presents a musical portrait of our annihilation so compelling that we may be actively encouraged to participate. Perhaps this is the point. Human history is full of countless examples of humanity plotting to bring about its own destruction. To save ourselves from these impulses, we need artists like Shabka Hutchings. Few artists today have the ability to reach back into the past and bring it forward through music that not only feels urgent, but essential for understanding the uncertain times in which we live. Long live King Shabaka. May his reign upon jazz endure long past when we are gone.
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If you like We Were Sent Here by History, check out:
Polyhymnia by Yazz Ahmed
Dark Matter by Moses Boyd
Ptah The El Daoud by Alice Coltrane
KOKOROKO by KOKOROKO
There Is a Place by Maisha