Memorial day weekend 1921 started just like any other day in the Greenwood District of Tulsa, Oklahoma. One of the wealthiest communities in America, this segment of the city was such an economic powerhouse it would be dubbed “Black Wall Street.” By the end of the weekend, the prosperous region would be turned to rubble. After 19-year-old Dick Rowland, a Black shoe shiner, was accused of assaulting a white girl, a group of 75 Black men, some armed, arrived to ensure Rowland was not lynched. Upon the group’s arrival, the Sheriff called for calm and persuaded the men to return home. On their way, however, a mob of white men attacked them. A fight ensued and white rioters began to rampage the Black community, burning homes and stores. About 10,000 were left homeless, and property damage amounted to more than $32 million (2019 dollars). Even worse, 39 people were killed, over 800 hospitalized, and as many as 6,000 Black men thrown in jail, often for several days. This tragic history – largely hidden by an incendiary and complicit news media – viewed broadly forms the heart of Logan Richardson’s Afrofuturism (Whirlwind, 2021).

Structurally, only one song is dedicated to the events in Tulsa, “Black Wallstreet.” The piece sets a soundscape for the chaos of that weekend. Strings convey the utter shock and devastation of a surveyed aftermath. Upon this, the pained cries of Richadson’s alto try to process what occurred, weeping for the fallen, not just in that city but for others who have dealt with similar atrocities. The inhumanity of hatred and a yearning for hope. It is stirring to the point where it makes even one not familiar with the history aware of the travesty.  

Yes, “Black Wallstreet” is only one track but it embodies the entire album. Rather than a collection of discrete compositions, Afrofuturism is an indivisible whole. Each piece flows naturally into the next, at times even feeling like one extended composition. The unifying theory behind it all lays in the album’s title. Afrofuturist concepts – drawing connections between technology and the African diaspora-  is nothing new. Even as early as the 1950s, Sun Ra linked Egyptology to science fiction. However, most Afrofuturist works emphasize the African content rather than the specific African-American experience. While examples like Parliament-Funkadelic referencing “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” exist, references to specific events tend to take the form of a mention rather than a central narrative focal point. 

It is within this context that “Black Wallstreet” is particularly special as it provides an overarching focus specifically on Black American history, not mere glimpses or whispers. “For Alto” builds upon this as well. Named in honor of Anthony Braxton’s legendary solo album, Richardson does not play as definably “out” as his musical forebear. Instead, one finds a contemplative lone saxophone player celebrating brilliant African American artistry, particularly by those pushing for greater creative freedom. It is a reminder that inspiration need not, and should not, mean emulation. “Farewell, Goodbye” does similarly with a dedication to the late McCoy Tyner. Built off of popish vocals, synths, and drum machines, like “For Alto,” it doesn’t automatically invoke the sound of its honoree even as it plays its homage. 

Like on all great Afrofuturist works, the album’s conceptualization of chronology remains, to some degree, malleable. The past is placed alongside the present. This is aptly seen on ‘Say My Name.” The song’s title suggests the continuity between events like those in Tulsa and Breona Taylor today. At the same time, it includes a monologue by Stefon Harris which unequivocally draws another line between artists like Richardson and their predecessors. Spoken word samples like Harris’ play a significant role throughout the album, whether Busta Rhymes’ “Photocopy” comments on the music industry’s castigation of creativity in favor of profit or “Grandma”’s connection of the album’s contemporary sounds to older spirituals. 

Afrofuturism’s transcendence of time is best seen in its melding of musical ideas. Richardson’s description of “Say My Name” as “Frank Zappa, Queen, Brian Wilson and Radiohead meets Schoenberg in a sci-fi 80s lounge” aptly labels the uniqueness of sound found throughout the album. But to some extent, the patchwork of jazz, rock, trap, hip hop, electronica, and even classical is a veneer over the recording’s sturdy structure. Stability instead comes from the Blues. While recording does not sound like BB King or Muddy Waters, they seem to come from the same place. Whether the rueful cries of a community in Tulsa or the yearning for artistic freedom, the Blues serves as a central organizing principle. By attaching newer sounds to this elder form, Richardson provides a deeper meaning to the Afrofuturist concept and, in the process, produces an album that is a memorable guidepost for future artists.

Afrofuturism is now available on CD or vinyl from Whirlwind Recordings.

A digital copy is available from Wax Industry.

Personnel: Logan Richardson (alto saxophone, piano, keyboards, synths), Igor Osypov (electric and acoustic guitars), Peter Schlamb (vibraphone, keyboards, key bass), Dominique Sanders (bass, key bass, production), Ryan J. Lee (drums, bass), Corey Fonville (drums), Laura Taglialatela (vocals), Ezgi Karakus (strings).

Tracklist: 1. Say My Name; 2. The Birth of Us; 3. Awaken; 4. Sunrays; 5. For Alto; 6. Light; 7. Trap; 8. Grandma; 9. Farewell, Goodbye; 10. Black Wallstreet; 11. Photocopy; 12. Round Up; 13. According to You; 14. Praise Song; Bonus Track: I’m Not Bad, I’m Just Drawn That Way (CD/LP only).