Chief Adjuah stretches, re-evaluates his music
You'll call it 'jazz' and then question that decision once you read about this talented multi-instrumentalist as he seeks to educate and enlighten at a recent performance
I wasn't planning to write a review of the Chief Xian aTunde Adjuah shows from this past weekend at Hancher, but I have been thinking a lot about what I heard and thought I would share some thoughts.
I first heard the New Orleans trumpeter back in 2010 with his album Yesterday You Said Tomorrow. At the time, he referred to what he performed as "stretch music," because he wanted to stretch the conception of that sound beyond the jazz label that would usually be used to describe it. It's certainly rooted in what most would consider to be jazz — it swings, it employs typical instrumentation, and is based on improvisation and soloing — but he also takes the music beyond those bounds.
But it is not simply that richness that he hopes to capture with the different terminology. At the weekend shows, he talked about his aversion to the word "jazz."
"Well, it's because we hate being labeled 'jazz,'" he said of the term. "Do you guys know where that word comes from? The earliest moments of using this term come from the Times Picayune in New Orleans… they were referring to the musicians as 'jackasses.'"1
As the audience made noises of surprise, he acknowledged their reaction.
"Yeah," he said, nodding. "You've been saying that for 100 years."
I helped to bring Adjuah to the Iowa City Jazz Festival in 2013 after the release of his Christian aTunde Adjuah album. Though still billed as Christian Scott, he was clearly evaluating who he was, shifting and expanding that self-projection at the same time he was doing so with his sound. He was taking in post-rock elements and blending in hip hop and African music as his palette grew more colorful and adventurous. The performance was one of the best I've seen in the history of the festival, a confident blast from an artist who knew where he wanted to go and had the tools to take him there. Yes, it was jazz to the ears of those who heard it, but it was also something more.
As his career progressed — he began under the name Christian Scott, and his name morphed, along with his sound, to the current Chief Xian aTunde Adjuah — so did the expansiveness of his sound. His talent came into full flower on Stretch Music and what he called the "Centennial Trilogy": Ruler Rebel, Diaspora, and The Emancipation Procrastination. Those three in particular were a startling evolution of his sound, which became more electronic and guitar-based, while still leaving plenty of room for the clarion-like trumpet solos that are a consistent highlight.
Adjuah took a left turn of sorts on 2023's Bark Out Thunder Roar Out Lightning, an album that saw him set the trumpet aside and take up the bow, an instrument he created that blends West African instruments the n’goni and the kora with a harp, as well as other instruments. I was disappointed he wasn't playing the trumpet until I heard the album. It is a fresh amalgamation of several sounds. Yes, jazz is in there of course, but also West African music, hip hop, and plenty of the vibe of his native New Orleans.
When I saw the photo of Adjuah on the cover of Hancher's 2024-25 season brochure holding the bow in his hands, I was glad to know he would likely play the new instrument, but wanted to be sure he would have his trumpet. I needn't have worried. He played plenty of both, and if anything, I'm more relieved in hindsight that he brought the bow with him than I would have been had he stuck solely to the trumpet.
Each set opened with two songs featuring the bow. Adjuah's instrument would often start the song, sounding like a blend of a harp, a sitar, and a kalimba. Over that base, his band — guitarist Cecil Alexander, drummer Joe Dyson, bassist Ryoma Takenaga, and Weedie Braimah on djembe and conga — would build a structure that had the drive of a rock show and the groove of a jazz combo. Some of the songs were drawn from that latest album, and some were new.
The best of them was "Red River Valley," that Adjuah said he wrote for an acoustic instrument he created, but seeing the response from Saturday's crowd, he said he would continue to do it this way. It was the best because of Adjuah's singing. Anyone who knows me knows I'm not a big fan of vocal jazz, feeling the subservience to the voice by the instrumentalists removes the very thing I want to hear. But Adjuah was such a commanding presence, his vocal so vital, that I was happy to cede time from the trumpet to get more of it.
Most of the time, artists playing two sets at Hancher will have two completely different set lists. Adjuah didn’t adhere to that tradition. Two of the songs were repeated, including one Alexander came up with in their soundcheck that day and that the band decided to include in both sets. Each performance was different, the musicians finding their way around the flow of the tune. The other was "Songs She Never Heard" from his 2019 album Ancestral Recall. The song closed the first set, a long bass solo from Takenaga taking up much of the heart of the performance. It was the third song of the second set, Takenaga now starting the tune with a solo of several minutes that left the audience to marvel at the dexterity of the 20 year old.
The percussionists helped to keep the energy level pinned in the red for much of the show. Dyson incorporated several electronic-derived sounds in his polyrhythmic beat, while Braimah was surely putting his callouses to the test with his frantically enthusiastic conga playing.
Adjuah spoke during both sets about things being "re-evaluated," both in the larger context of the way one refers to the music, and to the way the songs are presented.
"All of these things are being re-evaluated, not from a space of negative energy, just saying that, hey, it's time we think about the ways we label each other and why there was a utility in that label," he said.
While Adjuah's trumpet was a highlight of the sets — it feels lazy to mention Miles Davis, but at his best, Adjuah plays in similar fashion, favoring long, clear tones over flurries of cascading notes — it was his presence inside the band, a leader and driver of the sound, as much as his soloing that was most impressive.
I don't know whether we should continue to call music "jazz," but I do know we should call Adjuah's what he calls it himself, for this is indeed "stretch music." As with most genres that have exploded well beyond their origins — what do terms like "rock" or "country" really mean anymore? — jazz has become a shorthand for such a vast expanse of music that it is impossible to contain it within a word. And with artists like Adjuah pushing and pulling it in new directions, no matter what we call it, it is healthier than ever.
So, you missed the show and are intrigued. Where to begin?
I would suggest two places. First, to get a full sense of Adjuah’s sound, you need to hear Bark Out Thunder Roar Out Lightning. It is where he is at right now, and you can’t fully appreciate his artistry without it.
You won’t be disappointed by any of his earlier albums, but if you want to get a sense of the live performance, his 2020 album, Axiom, is a good place to start. The band blazed through “West of the West” this weekend, and this performance easily rivals that.
All of the other band members were worthy of praise, but Braimah earns a special note for his performance. Adjuah noted that Braimah’s album, The Hands of Time, was listed by Time magazine as an album of the year in 2021. On first listen, it’s of a piece with Adjuah’s work, a fusion of styles that defies the “jazz” tag it surely carries in most circles. Below is “Sackadougou,” which features Adjuah’s distinctive trumpet.
Not to be argumentative, but I recently read a fascinating series of posts about the origin of the term “jazz” by Dr. Lewis Porter. Keep in mind there are several supposed sources of the word, but Porter’s exhaustively researched work certainly seems definitive… and doesn’t include this detail.