Saving the Duck: A Conversation with Alfredo Colón on ‘Blood Burden’

Self-expression lies at the heart of all art. Creation that fails to reflect the artist’s spirit will never be able to connect with an audience perceiving it. As a result, dreams, hopes, and fears are all poured into the best art. But while every person has their own ideas and preferences, they do not exist in a vacuum. Instead, true understanding requires an appreciation of that person’s upbringing, background, and life experiences. Often, with a debut recording, musicians fall into the trap of trying to prove their capability rather than using it as an opportunity to dig deep into themselves. Not so with Alfredo Colón’s Blood Burden (Out of Your Head, 2024), where the saxophonist presents a richer picture of himself by building off of the foundation laid by his parents and the culture of their homeland.

Immigrants from the Dominican Republic, Colón’s parents place great weight on the faith and folklore of their ancestral home. For his mother, Gloria, it is her Catholic religion and learning the messages of the saints that are central to properly experiencing life. One can hear her wish that the saints protect her child in his journeys on the slow Blues progression of “Santo”, where hopefulness is never diminished even in its otherwise melancholic surroundings. Two versions of a song dedicated to St. Lucy – a woman who so strongly adhered to her faith that it resulted in her loss of sight and, ultimately, her life – tap into this as well.

One can also witness the experiences of Colón’s father, Hilario, in straddling shifting concepts of masculinity and what it means to be brave. “Doomknocker” comes from his refusal to adhere to older norms when he knew they violated his internal ethics. To some degree, he was denounced for stepping outside the status quo but ultimately recognized for his bravery in doing so. The experience metaphorically reflects how man interacts with the Dominican folklore figure, the ciguapa. A succubus in human female form, the ciguapa relies on people to sacrifice their standards and ethics in exchange for immediate pleasure. In a way, by refusing to kill, Hilario rejected such comfort so he could survive on his own terms.

Leaving family and friends, Gloria and Hilario came to America to find a better life. While the children of immigrants to the US typically have better opportunities than in their homeland, there is often also a guilt factor. Well aware of their parents’ sacrifices, they feel the burden (hence, “Blood Burden”) to succeed. Failure, they worry, may minimize their parents’ sacrifices. However, the irony of the cultural melting pot is that, too often, success requires the adoption of American pop and homogenized culture. Pressed between honoring the values that guided their parents and the pressure to excel, such children must forge their own path that carefully balances both. Mirroring this experience through music, Blood Burden uniquely marries the common with the foreign to present both in a cohesive and coherent whole. It is a fascinating debut that is as much a sonic sociological treatise as it is an exercise in free expression.

PostGenre: Blood Burden is your debut as a leader. Why did you feel that now was the right time to  come out with your first album? 

Alfredo Colón: I had been playing with this band since around 2019 but didn’t have the funds or resources to put together a full studio recording. Around the time of the recording, the group had settled into a lineup that felt right. It features Lex Korten on piano, Steve Williams on bass and Connor Parks on drums. I felt that the band had always sounded great but around the time of the recording, we were finding our stride and had found our own way to navigate harmony and rhythm as a group that felt worthy of documenting. 

PG: To ask you about a particular song on the album,  “Our Simplest Office Clerk” gets its title from an  apparently horrible video game.

AC: [laughing] yeah.

PG: Given its origins, were you ever inclined to play Electronic Wind Instrument (EWI) on the song?

AC: No. That song actually came from the very first show I played with the idea of this music. I was pretty bad at the saxophone. But I was good on EWI. So, I had months – years actually – where I would play EWI at a gig then go home and practice saxophone endlessly. But I wanted people to know that I play saxophone too, so I booked a gig at the Jazz Gallery, which has been my home base for years. I hit up [Jazz Gallery Artistic Director] Rio [Sakairi] and told her I wanted to do a gig on sax. “Our Simplest Office Clerk” opened the set. So, I always had saxophone in mind for the song.

The title comes from a game called “No Thing.”  In it you just run and gotta turn at the right time. But the game looks very bad. It has a vibe to it, but it looks horrible. But there’s a robotic voice repeating this spoken word thing that’s really captivating. So that kept me playing. And the character you play in the song is called “Our Simplest Office Clerk.” He’s supposed to deliver something – I can’t remember what it was exactly –  but the game emphasizes how unimportant he is. Over time, however, he changed into the title of “Very Important Office Clerk.” I kind of identified with that struggle of wanting to be acknowledged, and saw the song as a self-portrait in a way. I saw myself in this crappy video game character. 

PG: You mentioned The Jazz Gallery – who I also occasionally write for. It is a really great place for fostering young talent.

AC: It’s super special. I mean, I could talk about it forever. Rio is like a second mom to me. She’s always putting me on to new music. She’s been there for me from the beginning and gave me the first real opportunities that I had in music. I don’t know, I know where I’d be without her and the rest of the Jazz Gallery team. I still rehearse there.  Sometimes, if I have some time to kill and am in the area, I’ll go practice there. The Jazz Gallery is a safe place to create. I’ve played in many clubs where there’s kind of like an expectation of what they want from you. You must dress a certain way. You must sound a certain way. You must play a certain style of music. At the Jazz Gallery, there’s none of that. They don’t care about those things, only that the music is good and sounds like you. Rio gives you freedom and the music grows because of it. You show up as you are. You’re not putting on a mask for the gig. And, as a result, the best sets are always there. It’s a magical place. 

I also worked at the Jazz Gallery for seven or right years. It was a great way for me to check out music that I otherwise wouldn’t. You know, I think I found out about Henry Threadgill – who’s now one of my biggest heroes- when I was working there. He used to show up quite a bit. It wasn’t until I went on a first date though that I realized how big he is. I told my date about him and she told me she loved his music and we ended up seeing his trio with Vijay Iyer and Dafnis Prieto. And I was  blown away by what I heard. My life changed instantly and ever since, he’s been a big influence. I listen to Henry almost every day.

PG: You are on his album The Other One (Pi, 2023). How did that happen?

AC: Oh yeah. Henry found out about me through the Jazz Gallery. He was sent an email blast to promote one of my gigs there in June 2021. He came to the Gallery shortly after that to see something else – I think Leslie Mok was presenting something. He saw me there and said he saw an email with my face on it. He asked me to let him know when I was playing next. I sent him a list of my gigs in the next three weeks or so. I didn’t end up seeing him at any of the shows but he has a tendency to just show up and people do not see him there. He’s kind of mysterious in that way.

But one time I was at the Jazz Gallery again getting some photos and got a call from an unknown number. It was Henry and he told me that Darius Jones contracted COVID and asked if I would sub for him. And I agreed to.

Henry’s music is so unique. He’s invented his own system. I not only had to have to learn the written material, but there are also improvised parts that are like learning bebop. It’s like a new thing. I obviously did not have enough time to fully develop that to my liking, but it was fascinating to check out. I was trying to make heads and tails of the music. Some of the lines he wrote were the hardest thing I’ve ever had to perform. But I pulled a couple of all-nighters and got close enough. 

Henry was so gracious with me. For anything I wasn’t nailing 100%, he would kind of nudge me in the right direction. And if I wasn’t altogether there, he still found a way to make it work. This was a really beautiful experience. 

PG:  Do you feel you’ve gotten anything from Henry that you have used in composing your own music? 

AC: No, in terms of composing up so much. Henry’s got follows an approach that is unique to him. I also still don’t fully have his concepts down. Someone like Noah Becker who is the other alto saxophone player on The Other One and also Henry’s copyist knows the ins and outs of the music. I think Noah has the most comprehensive understanding of it. So I think someone like him could possibly take the concept and work with it in a way and mangle it to make it his own. I haven’t even scratched the surface.

PG: The thing that stands out most about Blood Burden is that it is an avant-garde recording but does not sound “too out.” Was that something you consciously had in mind while recording the album?

AC: Yeah, that’s kind of the goal. That said, however, I didn’t sit down and overtly think that I was gonna write something that’s like both of those things. I think it just kind of came out that way. And a lot of that has to do with the fact that I love so many different kinds of music. 

I recently tried to send a friend a song on my phone and accidentally sent him a link from my playlist of most listened to music. He was like, “man, what the fuck is wrong with you?” The playlist had lots of Thelonious Monk, Erroll Garner, and Duke Ellington. Real, solidly jazz stuff. But there were also electronic noise records on there. Punk. The Blues too. I think that thread of strong melodic material is always at the center of what I like to listen to. But there’s also a lot of avant-garde stuff in there as well that really colors the music in that way. 

PG:  As far as the avant-garde side, Albert Ayler and Ornette Coleman are two of your bigger influences. Do you feel your interest in the Blues may be behind part of your interest in them as well?

 AC: I think with Ayler and Ornette specifically, there’s a sonic freedom. There are a lot of sax players that have a consistent sound. But then there is someone like Ayler who manipulates sound with a kind of flexibility that I really enjoy. I do also like the Blues in general. It is at the forefront, background and center of everything. I always tell my band to understand that we’re playing every song as a Blues. There is  just some extra steps sometimes. But I also listen to a lot of people like Mississippi John Hurt, Mance Lipscomb, and Muddy Waters.

PG: So, is that what drove you to include a Son House tune on Blood Burden when the rest of the album is all originals? 

AC:That Son House song, “Grinnin’ In Your Face,” is one of my favorite songs ever. I think I found that song as a kid through the movie It Might Get Loud (Steel Curtain, 2008) with The Edge from U2 and Jack White, who does a cover of it. I’m not a huge Jack White fan and disliked his version but figured I would check out the original version. Listening to it led to me checking out a lot of Son House’s music. There is this super interesting thing about him where he had this back and forth with his relationship with music. He was super religious, which ties into the religious themes of Blood Burden. 

My first steady gig was playing an African Methodist Episcopal (AME) church. It was my favorite thing. They didn’t have the budget for a microphone for me, so I had to play without one in a pretty resonant room over organ, drums, and a choir. I had to figure out quickly how to play loud enough. My favorite thing about that gig was the pastor when she was really feeling the spirit. There were some sermons where she would be screaming and you can’t really make out what she was saying, but you felt it. I really love listening to preachers of the AME sect of Christianity. They have a sound that I can hear in the music of Son House as well. His background as a preacher really comes through and I have always resonated with that in that way. 

PG: Blood Burden utilizes Catholic imagery, which seems pretty different from what you would have heard at an AME church. 

AC: Yeah, they’re incredibly different musically. I mean, the Catholic Church is very hymn based and AME is more gospel focused.I think that the religious ties to the record – I’m not religious myself – have come from my family being  Catholic. I also spent so much time playing in the church that it has become a part of my DNA. 

But the imagery of stained glass with depictions of the saints and all has always fascinated me.  I also wrote a lot of the music around the time I was moving out of my parents’ place and faith is very important to my mother. 

PG: So, that imagery of saints, is that what inspired you to write a song about St. Lucy?

AC: I wrote the  song “Saint Lucy,” the most blatantly Catholic sounding song on the album, while I was somewhere in Italy. We had gone to this restaurant where they had photographs from the ‘70s of people dressed as the saints. Saint Lucy had her plate with the eyeballs on it. It fascinated me and I took a picture of it. 

I remember we were staying at this hotel that felt like it was very haunted. It was like an incredibly old building by the water. There were drunk Italian teenagers partying right outside my window and there were mosquitoes all over the place, so I couldn’t sleep. And I kept thinking about this picture of Saint Lucy. I then spent the night reading about who Saint Lucy was and made the tune in about a half hour. 

PG: You mentioned earlier your family’s Catholic faith. You also have one track dedicated to each of your parents. Are they musicians? 

AC: No, they’re not musicians. My parents both come from agricultural families in the Dominican. They’re from the countryside.

The song “Santo” is written for my mother and has more Catholic imagery.  And “Doomknocker” is dedicated to my father and plays on the folklore aspect. I would find out about all kinds of folklore stuff through him. He was a great storyteller. He would constantly tell me about all these mythical creatures like the ciguapa, a shape shifting monster that disguises itself as a beautiful woman by the water and  takes men who are trying to cheat on their wives into the water and drowns them. 

In my family, there is a very superstitious kind of vibe. Curses come up a lot. In his book The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (Riverhead, 2007), Junot Díaz talks about Fuku, which is a generational curse that stays with you forever until someone breaks it. Reading that book made me think of a story that my dad would always tell me.  He grew up on a farm and worked in the field. He would go to school, come back, have dinner and then work throughout the night. He repeated that every day. But once he was old enough, his dad told him that he had to start killing livestock animals now to eat. He always tells me the story about how his dad wanted him to kill a duck. But my dad couldn’t bring himself to do it. My grandfather told him he was never going to be a man if he couldn’t kill the animal and shamed my dad for it. But he still refused to. Years later, when my grandfather was dying he told my dad he forgave him for the experience and respected my dad for standing up for his beliefs. Every time my dad tells me that story, he always adds that if I have a duck in my life to just let him know and I don’t have to kill the duck. 

PG: So, the focus on your family is what put the Blood in the album’s title?

AC: A lot of Blood Burden is setting the stage for this world. And then it ends with being free to do whatever you want. Many children of immigrant parents feel a pressure to make their parents’ sacrifice worth it. It’s like you inherited this burden, but it’s a blessing at the same time. I have the luxury of following my dreams because my parents didn’t. And Blood Burden acknowledges their sacrifice.

‘Blood Burden’ is out now on Out of Your Head Records. It can be purchased on Bandcamp. You can read more about Alfredo Colón on his website.