A popular saying holds that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” The quote is often attributed to Oscar Wilde, without evidence he uttered it. In reality, the Irish playwright was far less flattering to mimickers. Specifically, Wilde correctly called emulation “the homage which mediocrity pays to that which is not mediocre.” True creativity – true artistry – requires the next generation to not merely recreate that which came before but to build from it. The lessons of the past are to serve as a guide, not an underlying objective. Instead, the younger generations best honor their antecedents by keeping the elders’ thoughts alive by pushing them into new directions. The quartet أحمد [Ahmed] – saxophonist Seymour Wright, pianist Pat Thomas, bassist Joel Grip, and drummer Antonin Gerbel have heeded this lesson well in their explorations of the works of Ahmed Abdul-Malik.

To some degree, Abdul-Malik is an artist whose full legacy was lost to the passage of time. As a sideman, he was in demand for some of the biggest names in improvised music, from Randy Weston to Jutta Hipp to Thelonious Monk. The last of these, however, brought Abdul-Malik on the path that would define his career. Playing at the Five Spot, Monk’s then saxophonist, John Coltrane, encouraged the bassist to start his own ensemble. As a student of Syrian, West African, and Lebanese music, it was inevitable that Abdul-Malik’s music would draw upon more global influences. Often, this led him to put aside his Western-based bass to express himself on other instruments from further East. For one, Abdul-Malik’s tanpura can be heard on “India” from ‘Trane’s famous 1961 recording from the Village Vanguard. Much of his focus went to the oud and efforts to further underscore the connections between Middle Eastern music and jazz. Two of his records, Jazz Sahara (Riverside, 1958) and East Meets West (RCA, Victor, 1960) became known as pioneer outings in this space.

Despite his contributions, Abdul-Malik’s name is hardly discussed in academic circles. To most casual jazz fans, he remains an unknown [Ahmed] seeks to rectify this situation by exposing the artistic ancestor’s work to new audiences. But they don’t merely try to replicate that which has already been done. Instead, Abdul-Malik’s compositions, whether “Wood Blues” or “Nights on Saturn,” are treated as starting points for long-form free improvisations. Heavy urgent rhythms and syncopations keep propelling the quartet forward as they stretch and pull shorter pieces into lengthy expositions. The reverence and respect for Abdul-Malik are evident even while it remains unlimiting. From the fervent blasts of Wright’s saxophone to Thomas’ unconventional chord structures, the quartet makes compelling music full of physicality. You experience it as much by feel as conceptual analysis. Part of this also comes from the vibrancy of live recording; with the quartet’s members spread throughout Europe, the group saves their collective greatness for rare live performances. Those lucky enough to be in New York or Knoxville, Tennessee, can experience this magic for themselves at Roulette and the Big Ears Festival, respectively. 

Ultimately, [Ahmed] is a recurring call to challenge historical narratives. To draw inspiration from the greats of the past, particularly from those often marginalized in the history books. But, at the same time, to avoid blindly adhering to the legacies of those figures. Instead, you must carve your own, so that, someday, perhaps others will follow you as well. We sat down with London-based saxophonist Seymour Wright to discuss the group, its origins, and its creative processes.

PostGenre: How did you first learn about Ahmed Abdul-Malik and what drew you to his music?

Seymour Wright: [I first learned of him while] growing up listening to the records he’s on – my Dad had many – and then the ones he made [himself]. He’s obviously so [very] important in terms of ideas and sound. At the crux of a flow of ideas and practical learning – a brilliant musician, philosopher, doer of stuff. If you listen to his records as a leader and the ones he’s on – and where things went with Randy Weston, [Thelonious] Monk, then [John] Coltrane; Walt Dickerson, and then Earl Hines – it’s clear he’s at the core of things, asking questions, pouring in ideas (musical, philosophical, intellectual, conceptual), connecting/shaping traditions and practices. Vital.

PG: A critical part of Abdul-Mali’s work is looking at how Middle Eastern and North African music connects with jazz. Why do you feel the West African Islamic cultural influence on jazz has been so understated in most discussions on the music?

SW: Because – at best – the histories that understate this influence are written by people who don’t know anything about it, and don’t talk to musicians or the people around/part of the creation and reception of the music. Or, if they do, don’t do so in ways that open ideas up, or go deeply into them. They [simply] don’t see or hear what is ‘there’ ‘in’ the music. Or, worse, perhaps, some of those histories are written by people who choose to exclude [and consciously] understate this influence. I think it’s still the same with all sorts of aspects of cultural influence(s) on jazz and improvised music. It’s a complicated, social thing, just like history is.

PG: Going back, how did the group come together? 

SW: Various strands and connections begun at different times in different cities converged and entwined in 2013/14 – Antonin and Joel had known each other for many years, as had Pat and me (and spoken often over those years about Abdul-Malik). As we’d started to play together in overlapping sub-groups by 2013-14, it made sense, for us four together to meet and play, and for an exploration of Abdul-Malik’s work to be the context for this. We played first, and recorded, in private first in 2014. [Ed note: this recording is not publicly released but this author has heard it and it is fantastic]. Our first concert was in 2016, the New Jazz Imagination (Umlaut, 2017) recording.

PG: How do you think the quartet has changed the most over the almost nine years since the performance captured on New Jazz Imagination?

SW: We have a decade of playing history now, and our own (collective) experimental practice together. This, and what we’ve learnt doing this, is part of what we do when we play. The world around us has also changed a lot in the last decade, too.

PG: Tied to change, there is a quote from Pat that, “If you spend your life trying to be Charlie Parker, who will be you?” Given [Ahmed]’s compositions are built around the music of a single artist, is it ever difficult to ensure your own voice comes out in the work?

SW: No, I don’t think so. We each have our own very distinct voices across many other respective projects, and in life. And we each develop those voices away from, and inside, [Ahmed]. Only we four can do [Ahmed], and we can only do it together. The re-imaginings of [Ahmed] are the aggregate of our four voices – the [Ahmed] voice. It’s a distinct reflective, enquiring voice. And it’s a voice in music and beyond music, we are also dealing in ideas.

PG: What is your process for coming up with new arrangements of Abdul-Malik’s compositions?

SW: We agree on which piece we will re-imagine, usually before we meet, sometimes on the day/in the sound check. That’s ‘the arrangement’ – an agreement. Fundamentally, the performance is a reflection of and commitment to this agreement, the re-imagining of things is the work, done together ‘on stage’ when we play together. We have often played Monk compositions, too, over the last eighteen months. The process is the same.

PG: What do you enjoy most about the group?

SW: I think we all enjoy doing it when we can, and because it only happens when we are able to meet to do it together, the enjoyment is, somehow, everything about the experience of this working together: arriving, talking, playing, learning, sharing – not a ‘most’, but an ‘all’ – at once.

PG: The group performs only live, with no practice or advanced planning. How important is spontaneity to the group’s creative process?

SW: Integral. [Spontaneity] is the vehicle for our creative process. It holds, (re)folds, and moulds the conceptual content. Again, the arrangement is the performance. It’s improvised music, asking, enquiring, and reflecting, amongst other things, ‘about’ and ‘on’ ideas of ‘jazz’, and the radical work of Abdul-Malik. The connection with traditions – British, European, and many others- of ‘free improvisation’ is uninterrupted.

PG: Given the importance of spontaneity, what role does repetition play in the group’s music and does an emphasis on repetition tend to foster or make it more difficult to find ways to interject personal expression through improvisation?

SW: We revisit repertoire (and venues), but always in new ways. Versioning, and re-imagining. We work with repetition in this sense and in the sense of performance. But each visit or version is completely different. Repetition of precision in physically complex, heavy, visceral music is rare, partly because it’s hard to do. When any one of us chooses to repeat one of the complexes of sound we use in [Ahmed], or when we repeat whole group things together, I think it’s an emphatic statement of personal – and [Ahmed]-collective – expression through, and at, the committed ‘edge’ of improvisation.

PG: Bringing attention to Abdul-Malik’s often-overlooked contributions to the music is such an important part of this group. Are there any other artists you feel are deserving of wider recognition?

SW: Many, many yes. Many from the past, and many in the present. People who do things differently, who have ideas, challenge, and ask real questions (that invite real creativity and thought in(to) their reception), often are ignored and excluded. Add to this how the problematic public (and publishing) lust for ‘leaders’ and the ‘individual commodity’ in group improvised music means many vital creative people have not been, and still are not, heard, or noticed, at all – and you have many overlooked contributions. Abdul-Malik talks about this in his 1963 Down Beat interview. It’s still the same.

I think a key idea in what we do is not just a focus on his work, but the idea more generally to question, look, listen, and go more deeply into music, or anything and everything in life. An invitation to attend, to listen, to look deeply, beyond the surface.  

PG: What do you feel is Ahmed Abdul-Malik’s legacy and your role in sharing it?

SW: The etymology of legacy is to do with being a representative. Abdul-Malik represents many things, I think – most fundamentally: a rigorous commitment to working on, and practicing an instrument; to learning (about the world, who you are, how to play); to creating (and re-creating) a sound; and, to having ideas and looking into them deeply – all of this is concerned with both tradition (histories) and innovation (futures). Different people will focus on different aspects. More people (I meet) now know his work than did a decade ago, I think, and this is important. There is much more work to do.

[Ahmed] will be performing for the first time in the United States at Roulette Intermedium on March 25, 2025. It will also be available on Youtube livestream. Following their Roulette date, the quartet will be performing two sets at the Big Ears Festival, one on March 28, 2025 and the other a day later on March 29th. More information about Seymour Wright is available on his website.