Post by Dirk Busche

We have lost an exceptional pianist He lived and died in Germany, some days ago, having been born in South Africa. His birth certificate bore a German name. First: Dollar Brand, then Abdullah Ibrahim (AI) What a name, what a brand! Who calls themselves Dollar Brand? A currency as a first name, a business buzzword as a surname. He became religious. In the year of revolt, 1968, of all years. From then on, he called himself Abdullah Ibrahim. Exactly ten years later, the singer-songwriter Cat Stevens (album: *Tea for the Tillerman*, 1970) changed his name. From then on, he was known as Yusuf Islam, also a fan of Muhammad. Back to Abdullah I.: his birth name was Adolph Johannes Brand; born on 9 October 1934 in Cape Town. A nod to German colonial history in the Cape. I wouldn’t have wanted to be called Adolph either. Apparently, the future pianist and multi-instrumentalist had ancestors from Central Europe. He returned to these roots, living by Lake Chiemsee with his partner since 2010. A similar story in Landeshauptstadt Hannover: Blues piano legend Champion Jack Dupree, born in New Orleans, spent his final years living in the Oststadt district, in the Raschplatz high-rise, and died in 1992. He often performed at “Offenbachs Keller”. I saw him there four times. There, too, he played using microphones from Sennheiser Electronics, based in the municipality of Wedemark near Hanover. On Deutschlandradio (DLF Kultur), in the programme “Fazit – Kultur vom Tage”, I’m just hearing a wise remark from AI: “Write about what you know best”. He was referring to music. I reckon: that applies to writing too. That’s why this post is rather of a mistake. I don’t know enough about Abdullah’s music. Just the album: “Echoes from Africa” (photo), 1979, label: Enja, recorded at Tonstudio Bauer, Ludwigsburg. Featuring the magical bassist Johnny Mbizo Dyani, who also sings. Listening to it gives you goosebumps. Dyani and AI whisper to each other, sometimes a cappella, sometimes on bass, sometimes on piano. Sometimes cheerful, sometimes melancholic. That reminds me of the brilliant Pop Art artist Roy Lichtenstein: “The Melody Haunts My Reverie” (see my photo on my profile). In essence: I can’t get this catchy tune out of my head. I’ll be writing again soon about: what I know better. 🈵 Text: 🅾️i-generated Research assistants: AI Gemini, Wikipedia Photo: Screenshot from the LP/CD database Discogs