Late 70s, student at Berkeley. My best friend and I took BART over to San Francisco to watch them at a club. One of the 3 best concerts in my life. They played so late that we missed BART and had to hitch hike back. Guess who picked us up and drove us all the way back to Berkeley!? Mr. Ibrahim and the band!
Scott Muni WNEW FM New York played this song back in the late 70’s on hot summer afternoons. That seems to be the only time I play this song now. Reminds me of the old days.
South Africa's greatest export to the world, the master himself Abdulla Ibrahim. This was a theme song of all Christmas celebrations in South Africa back then in th 70's. To this day it still fills me with good memories of a people who,despite all odds, produced music that's enduring and beautiful.
Every time I hear this I remember my friend Basil Coetzee. I miss your wisdom to this day. It was great getting to play this song with you on the two occasions we shared in '93. He was one of the great voices of the tenor saxophone on the planet.
Thank you Rodney Dopplerr. Every time I listen to Mr. Ibrahim music, it is like a spiritual experience. Mr. Carlos Ward on sax is a treat to see and listen to in person. Saw the band several times at Sweet Basil on 7th Avenue.
I had the original LP. Loved this song the day it was released. Wish I could have seen Dollar Brand play live in CapeTown when they originally performed this great song before its commercial release. Simply awesome. Thank you for posting this on UA-cam. So, so, fine.
I have loved Dollar Brand since college in the 80s when I discovered him. There is happiness, joy, in a very clean impromptu feeling way. It would be my background music when I visit and walk the streets of San Francisco. A subdued excitement, if that's possible.
I've had a hard time recalling any period in my life when jazz wasn't playing. Whether I liked the music or not, my parents played jazz, and I was subject to it. I always struggled to understand what it was that my parents heard in it. The music seemed to slip through my understanding as soon as it played. How mysterious it was that something so elusive, something that never struck a chord within me, could so deeply move and fill my parents. One record that spun particularly often at home was Capetown Fringe by the South African jazz pianist Dollar Brand (now Abdullah Ibrahim). The song Capetown Fringe played on any occasion, whether in quiet moments at home or during euphoric weekend gatherings with my parents’ circle - it seemed there was never a wrong time for The Fringe. Much later, my father explained that the song symbolized exile for him, a reminder of the sadness of living in foreign lands and the hope of one day, perhaps, returning home. When Capetown Fringe was released in the mid-70s, Abdullah Ibrahim himself was in exile from South Africa. The song became something of an international hymn for the anti-apartheid struggle. And all this without a single lyric. Capetown Fringe is a 14-minute distillation of the South Africa that was, and the South Africa that its oppressed people hoped it would be. It's an unrelenting jazz groove crowned alternately by piano and sax solos, somehow conveying the feelings of despair, sorrow, pain, and the droplets of hope needed to give life any semblance of meaning. But I didn’t understand any of this back then. To be honest, I’m not sure I fully understand it even now. But Capetown Fringe made an impression on me. In 1994, at 24 years old and 14 years after my last memory of the song, I rediscovered Capetown Fringe. At a local jazz bar in Dakar, Senegal, I heard the song that, in a strange and unintentional way, had become the soundtrack of my childhood. “What a coincidence,” I tried to explain to my friend. But he had a hard time grasping what I meant. Was it the song? Our presence in the jazz bar? Or was it just that the coincidence seemed so immense on that particular night? “You’re high,” laughed a pair of red eyes at me, to the music. “No, the song,” I replied to my hazy friend, “the music had been an unsolved mystery for so long. This wasn’t just a trip,” I tried to convince him. Everything seemed so clear now. I not only understood the music in Capetown Fringe, but jazz - no, life itself. But as soon as the music stopped, my understanding faded. Not madness, but more like my comprehension existed as long as the music played - as long as I held my breath. It was as if my thoughts were in my breath, and in the moment I exhaled, this crystal-clear insight into life evaporated, only to disappear into the void. That year in Dakar, many attempts were made to reclaim this understanding. I got hold of a CD version of Capetown Fringe that I played endlessly at my confused friend’s place. Together, we grew lungs like deep-sea divers. But I never seemed to get very deep into my thoughts. “Ca veut dire quoi ça?” my friend, who was nonetheless following along, wondered. Yes, what did it all mean? Why was it so difficult to grasp what seemed so crystal clear at certain moments? My search led me to lose the thread, to forget what I was even looking for: Why does jazz, like Abdullah Ibrahim’s, touch us, and why is life the way it is? It may all sound overly pretentious, but reality is less grand than that. A few years ago, I stumbled upon something that made me see things more clearly. The nameless narrator in Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man sits in his basement, eating his favorite dessert - vanilla ice cream soaked in sloe gin - and listening to jazz. In the prologue, we learn that the man in the basement listens to Louis Armstrong because Armstrong managed to create poetry by making himself invisible in the music. The narrator describes what it’s like to listen to Armstrong’s music while high on marijuana. The power of the music, like the drug’s effect, lies in its ability to alter not only time but also space. ”The unheard sounds came through, and each melodic line existed of itself, stood out clearly from all the rest, said its piece, waited paitaintly for the other voieces to speak. That night I found myself hearing not only in time, but in space as well. I not only entered the music but descended, like Dante, into its depths. The nameless narrator breathes life into a sorrowful piece of music-his own life; made invisible because he is Black, erased by a society that fails to see him as an individual. His invisibility obliterates his existence, rendering him nameless, both in the story and for the reader. The life drama performed by the "soloist" in the basement speaks of a world where the melody of the day is to "make it up as you go along." Jazz, like life, becomes most fascinating in moments of improvisation and unpredictability. But living as an improviser is no simple feat, and it's not easy to be authentic in a world where reason seems to falter. “Invisibility alters one’s sense of time,” the jazz and ice cream lover contemplates, high and gasping for authenticity. “You’re never quite in sync. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind.” It's exhausting to have the ability to see around corners and hear notes and sounds that shouldn’t exist. That’s why the narrator chooses to escape this inferno. Perhaps I wasn’t ready to listen when I first heard Capetown Fringe. And when the song resurfaced at the bar in Dakar, I didn’t just sense the music-I felt the nostalgia and absence of it. Music, in general, has the power to stir the senses. But jazz does something more. Jazz lays bare reality in the most honest and imaginable way. The protagonist, Antoine Roquentin, in Jean-Paul Sartre’s hallucinatory novel Nausea, realizes that the things around him are created by his own perception. Color is just a thought, and purple is merely an inadequate name for something he has never truly seen. He concludes that the "essence" of objects is just a convenient shell meant to cover the inexplicable nakedness of existence. And this without Roquentin taking a single puff of smoke. Instead, he relies on artistic creation to better understand himself. Rather than succumbing to despair, he finds inspiration in music. A jazz record convinces him to confront the bare truth of existence and to write a novel. Finally, I can exhale-truly!
tears in my eyes - brings back beautiful memories. I used to listen to this just lying in bed and letting the music surround me - or sitting on the stoop with this in the background while sitting with someone I cared for.
@Grace Munyanyi He was here in London last year (2018). He performed at the Barbican (London Jazz Festival 2019). I think he also did another performance in 2018.I first watched him at the SouthBank way in 2003 or thereabouts.
I heard this played live at Sweet Basil on 7th Avenue in NYC in the early 1990's. Carlos Ward was on alto sax. This is a mellow beautiful composition. The night was magical.
Oh dude do I miss those days! Village Gate, Top of the Gate, Village Vanguard and the quaint bars like Green Street. Oscar Peterson, Joe Pass, Thad Jones - Mel Lewis Big Band, Toots Thielman and the rest. Never knew how good life was. To top it off I was accompanied by the hottest blonde on the planet.
@@aubreycamachomd5717 I went to Bleeker St. with my daughter a few years ago (I live in Queens) - Capital One, CVS, etc. I almost cried, have to realize things change and appreciate growing up at the right time. Playing frisbee in Washington Sq. Park 'til dawn. Note - Green Street is mentioned in the Steely Dan song Black Cow.
I had heard that Abdullah Ibrahim was Nelson Mandella's favorite musician and that his music was the only music that could be smuggled into his prison cell. His music inspires great men to strive for great achievements.
Wonderful! Thank you very much. I listened to this album a lot while studying in Oakland in the early 1980s. I was able to get my vinyl disc player to endlessly repeat this already lengthy masterpiece. I hadn't listened to "Cape Town Fringe" for about 20 years but I viscerally remembered it - from the first phrase on his piano onto the swaying intersecting rhythm when drums, base and saxophone join in. An interpenetration of fire and water, this Dollar Brand "Cape Town Fringe" is steamin'!
Thanks for posting this. I saw Dollar Brand in Capetown in 1969 when he performed on our boat, World Campus Afloat. It was extraordinary. It was just him. He started playing and I closed my eyes. I woke up as he was holding his last note. I saw him again later in Santa Monica sometime in the 80's and the same thing happened. I'm glad to read below that he's still alive and playing.
When this record/album came out I was a teenager working a top 40 pop music station. Listened to it and loved it, knowing the station would never play this, i asked if i could have it. They gladly key me take, i never tire from hearing this wonderful music, one of my all-time favorites. 👍🏽😁
Had this back in the late 70s after hearing it on WBUR in Boston (hosted by Tony Cenamo) but lost the recording to a flood. Also, always liked/preferred the quintet version of The Pilgrim from the flip side - perhaps due to having listened to that version a zillion times. The duo version is great, but the quintet version is my fave. Would love to see that posted too ;) THANKS!
I have the old vinyl AND a new version where it is called "Mannenberg is where it happens" as Abdullah first wanted it to be. The record company decided to call it Cape Town Fringe. The new copy has the backside picture as front cover. Side 2 still is called "The Pilgrim".
@@karmatrinleyeshe I'm lucky to have both on vinyl... Even after ages passing, this still is an immediate "Djeez, there we go again!!!! and again and again... Optimistic minimalism with a wide vibe and range... Heaven.
Yes! Thanks for the story. There is something so simple, yet so hypnotic about this piece. I find Dollar Brand generally has an uncannily accurate sense of tempo - his left hand rolls along so steady. Here, he's on point the whole 13+ minutes. Fantastic accompaniment as well.
I heard Dollar in 1975 or 76 at Karl Berger’s house in Woodstock New York. He was playing Karl’s grand piano and because of his peddling and fingering techniques, in the middle of his performance I started hearing cellos being bowed….wow…what a performance!!!
Abdullah I'm sorry I never had the pleasure of playing with you guys your music is Awsome. What a inapration to so many musicians. I could listen to your music all day. Keep writing .my brother. One Love Ramsey
I have the old vinyl lp and have played it thousands of times since I bought it in the 70's. It's simply SUBLIME. Thank you for posting this on you tube. Good quality. :)
Listening to this makes me proud to be born in Capetown, saw him once live at the artscape in Capetown it was a experience which changed my life for ever.
Memories of hearing this at 17yo on WRVR while driving over the Pulaski Slyway into Manhattan. An instant all-time favorite. Driving over it right now in my mind like it was yesterday. Awesome days,.
Heard this in NY many moons ago on WNEW-FM. Drove to Manhattan and found Chiaroscuro Records and brought the LP back home. An all time favorite! It can be bought on CD. Look for Abdullah Ibrahim - Mannenberg. Amazon has it! Oh Yeah, Baby!
Late 70s, student at Berkeley. My best friend and I took BART over to San Francisco to watch them at a club. One of the 3 best concerts in my life. They played so late that we missed BART and had to hitch hike back. Guess who picked us up and drove us all the way back to Berkeley!? Mr. Ibrahim and the band!
One of those highlights in life that just make you appreciate it even more ..great story
Cool. Great story. Thanks.
Amazing!!
cool story!
So now I learned about BART. :-D
Scott Muni WNEW FM New York played this song back in the late 70’s on hot summer afternoons. That seems to be the only time I play this song now. Reminds me of the old days.
Some of the comments here bring as much joy to my heart as this song does.
My father used to play this song at every family gathering and braai back in Zimbabwe.. Beautiful song. Still have the vinyl I am proud to say :)
Great vinyl
w
what a great father you had...sorry, i envy you...
Exact same story from Ivory Coast. My father played it so regularly during family celebrations in the 80s.
South Africa's greatest export to the world, the master himself Abdulla Ibrahim. This was a theme song of all Christmas celebrations in South Africa back then in th 70's. To this day it still fills me with good memories of a people who,despite all odds, produced music that's enduring and beautiful.
Rodney Dopplerr: thanks for posting. Cheers!
Every time I hear this I remember my friend Basil Coetzee. I miss your wisdom to this day. It was great getting to play this song with you on the two occasions we shared in '93. He was one of the great voices of the tenor saxophone on the planet.
Now you just made me google you. I'm now going to go in search of your music. I hope I won't be disappointed. xx
One of the 5 single greatest pieces of recorded music ever...
What are the other four bru?
@@anthonymorton3074 yeah I would loooooooooove to know too???
what are the other ones?
Thank you Rodney Dopplerr. Every time I listen to Mr. Ibrahim music, it is like a spiritual experience. Mr. Carlos Ward on sax is a treat to see and listen to in person. Saw the band several times at Sweet Basil on 7th Avenue.
Amazing what three instruments can achieve in beautiful Harmony
Merci ! Ça c'est dollar brant le meilleur. Souvenir quant tu nous tiens !!!!
Takes me back to Philly and WRTI in the 70s. Such a great groove.
I had the original LP.
Loved this song the day it was released. Wish I could have seen Dollar Brand play live in CapeTown when they originally performed this great song before its commercial release. Simply awesome.
Thank you for posting this on UA-cam. So, so, fine.
I have loved Dollar Brand since college in the 80s when I discovered him. There is happiness, joy, in a very clean impromptu feeling way. It would be my background music when I visit and walk the streets of San Francisco. A subdued excitement, if that's possible.
I've had a hard time recalling any period in my life when jazz wasn't playing. Whether I liked the music or not, my parents played jazz, and I was subject to it. I always struggled to understand what it was that my parents heard in it. The music seemed to slip through my understanding as soon as it played. How mysterious it was that something so elusive, something that never struck a chord within me, could so deeply move and fill my parents.
One record that spun particularly often at home was Capetown Fringe by the South African jazz pianist Dollar Brand (now Abdullah Ibrahim). The song Capetown Fringe played on any occasion, whether in quiet moments at home or during euphoric weekend gatherings with my parents’ circle - it seemed there was never a wrong time for The Fringe. Much later, my father explained that the song symbolized exile for him, a reminder of the sadness of living in foreign lands and the hope of one day, perhaps, returning home. When Capetown Fringe was released in the mid-70s, Abdullah Ibrahim himself was in exile from South Africa. The song became something of an international hymn for the anti-apartheid struggle. And all this without a single lyric.
Capetown Fringe is a 14-minute distillation of the South Africa that was, and the South Africa that its oppressed people hoped it would be. It's an unrelenting jazz groove crowned alternately by piano and sax solos, somehow conveying the feelings of despair, sorrow, pain, and the droplets of hope needed to give life any semblance of meaning.
But I didn’t understand any of this back then. To be honest, I’m not sure I fully understand it even now. But Capetown Fringe made an impression on me. In 1994, at 24 years old and 14 years after my last memory of the song, I rediscovered Capetown Fringe. At a local jazz bar in Dakar, Senegal, I heard the song that, in a strange and unintentional way, had become the soundtrack of my childhood. “What a coincidence,” I tried to explain to my friend. But he had a hard time grasping what I meant. Was it the song? Our presence in the jazz bar? Or was it just that the coincidence seemed so immense on that particular night? “You’re high,” laughed a pair of red eyes at me, to the music. “No, the song,” I replied to my hazy friend, “the music had been an unsolved mystery for so long. This wasn’t just a trip,” I tried to convince him.
Everything seemed so clear now. I not only understood the music in Capetown Fringe, but jazz - no, life itself. But as soon as the music stopped, my understanding faded. Not madness, but more like my comprehension existed as long as the music played - as long as I held my breath. It was as if my thoughts were in my breath, and in the moment I exhaled, this crystal-clear insight into life evaporated, only to disappear into the void. That year in Dakar, many attempts were made to reclaim this understanding. I got hold of a CD version of Capetown Fringe that I played endlessly at my confused friend’s place. Together, we grew lungs like deep-sea divers. But I never seemed to get very deep into my thoughts. “Ca veut dire quoi ça?” my friend, who was nonetheless following along, wondered. Yes, what did it all mean? Why was it so difficult to grasp what seemed so crystal clear at certain moments?
My search led me to lose the thread, to forget what I was even looking for: Why does jazz, like Abdullah Ibrahim’s, touch us, and why is life the way it is? It may all sound overly pretentious, but reality is less grand than that.
A few years ago, I stumbled upon something that made me see things more clearly. The nameless narrator in Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man sits in his basement, eating his favorite dessert - vanilla ice cream soaked in sloe gin - and listening to jazz. In the prologue, we learn that the man in the basement listens to Louis Armstrong because Armstrong managed to create poetry by making himself invisible in the music. The narrator describes what it’s like to listen to Armstrong’s music while high on marijuana. The power of the music, like the drug’s effect, lies in its ability to alter not only time but also space.
”The unheard sounds came through, and each melodic line
existed of itself, stood out clearly from all the rest, said its piece,
waited paitaintly for the other voieces to speak. That night I found
myself hearing not only in time, but in space as well. I not only
entered the music but descended, like Dante, into its depths.
The nameless narrator breathes life into a sorrowful piece of music-his own life; made invisible because he is Black, erased by a society that fails to see him as an individual. His invisibility obliterates his existence, rendering him nameless, both in the story and for the reader. The life drama performed by the "soloist" in the basement speaks of a world where the melody of the day is to "make it up as you go along." Jazz, like life, becomes most fascinating in moments of improvisation and unpredictability. But living as an improviser is no simple feat, and it's not easy to be authentic in a world where reason seems to falter.
“Invisibility alters one’s sense of time,” the jazz and ice cream lover contemplates, high and gasping for authenticity. “You’re never quite in sync. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind.” It's exhausting to have the ability to see around corners and hear notes and sounds that shouldn’t exist. That’s why the narrator chooses to escape this inferno.
Perhaps I wasn’t ready to listen when I first heard Capetown Fringe. And when the song resurfaced at the bar in Dakar, I didn’t just sense the music-I felt the nostalgia and absence of it. Music, in general, has the power to stir the senses. But jazz does something more. Jazz lays bare reality in the most honest and imaginable way. The protagonist, Antoine Roquentin, in Jean-Paul Sartre’s hallucinatory novel Nausea, realizes that the things around him are created by his own perception. Color is just a thought, and purple is merely an inadequate name for something he has never truly seen. He concludes that the "essence" of objects is just a convenient shell meant to cover the inexplicable nakedness of existence. And this without Roquentin taking a single puff of smoke.
Instead, he relies on artistic creation to better understand himself. Rather than succumbing to despair, he finds inspiration in music. A jazz record convinces him to confront the bare truth of existence and to write a novel. Finally, I can exhale-truly!
Love this so much, my father introduced me to him and I share to everyone I meet who can't help but also loving it - timeless genius....
I had to pull my car over and stop when I first heard this on the radio in San Francisco in the late 1970's it was so beautiful. Magnificent music.
Basil Coetzee. Sublime sax.
tears in my eyes - brings back beautiful memories. I used to listen to this just lying in bed and letting the music surround me - or sitting on the stoop with this in the background while sitting with someone I cared for.
Deborah Taylor I can relate you are me tear up
Deborah Taylor 7
Great music. I emailed Mr. Ibrahim about a month ago. He's doing well and performing mostly in Europe and South Africa!
Blonde makhene
@Grace Munyanyi He was here in London last year (2018). He performed at the Barbican (London Jazz Festival 2019). I think he also did another performance in 2018.I first watched him at the SouthBank way in 2003 or thereabouts.
@Grace Munyanyi Hopefully, he'll be back soon. I recommend you keep an eye on the Southbank and Barbican websites.
Simply beautiful sound simply classic simply amazing..#2019
I'm london born Irish. I love this song.
I heard this played live at Sweet Basil on 7th Avenue in NYC in the early 1990's. Carlos Ward was on alto sax. This is a mellow beautiful composition. The night was magical.
I have a bootleg from that date. Monumental.
I saw that tour in Oakland. What a joy of joys.
Oh dude do I miss those days! Village Gate, Top of the Gate, Village Vanguard and the quaint bars like Green Street. Oscar Peterson, Joe Pass, Thad Jones - Mel Lewis Big Band, Toots Thielman and the rest. Never knew how good life was. To top it off I was accompanied by the hottest blonde on the planet.
@@whaheydelee Those were great times and even greater music by highly talented musicians.
@@aubreycamachomd5717 I went to Bleeker St. with my daughter a few years ago (I live in Queens) - Capital One, CVS, etc. I almost cried, have to realize things change and appreciate growing up at the right time. Playing frisbee in Washington Sq. Park 'til dawn. Note - Green Street is mentioned in the Steely Dan song Black Cow.
Thanks for the memories of the 70’s. BTW the track is called Mannenberg.
Thank you for uploading this. It's a song from my youth and one I've always associated with utter joy.
perfect sound! perfect groove! the world needs more of this, today & in future
I had heard that Abdullah Ibrahim was Nelson Mandella's favorite musician and that his music was the only music that could be smuggled into his prison cell.
His music inspires great men to strive for great achievements.
Wonderful! Thank you very much. I listened to this album a lot while studying in Oakland in the early 1980s. I was able to get my vinyl disc player to endlessly repeat this already lengthy masterpiece. I hadn't listened to "Cape Town Fringe" for about 20 years but I viscerally remembered it - from the first phrase on his piano onto the swaying intersecting rhythm when drums, base and saxophone join in. An interpenetration of fire and water, this Dollar Brand "Cape Town Fringe" is steamin'!
Such a great composition. Love, love it.
WONDERFUL : I HAVENT HEARD THAT IN 40 YEARS !!!!! .... AND I do not forget a GOOD THING .....🌅🌅
NOW IF I CAN ONLY PULL UP DON CHERRY 'S BROWN RICE .....
This tune had always put me in a perfect groove every time I would listen to it. Beautiful, man...
WRVR NYC - worlds great jazz station played this regularly. Loved it then and love it today!
cant get enough of this song
Thank you!!
Great, great tune. Awesome.
First intro back in '66.
Best recording there is or ever will be ... THANK YOU!
Thanks for posting this. I saw Dollar Brand in Capetown in 1969 when he performed on our boat, World Campus Afloat. It was extraordinary. It was just him. He started playing and I closed my eyes. I woke up as he was holding his last note. I saw him again later in Santa Monica sometime in the 80's and the same thing happened. I'm glad to read below that he's still alive and playing.
It's his birthday today, Oct. 9/22 😀
Seems he played in Italy 4 months ago - still active...
@@estherbaettig Good to know. Thanks.
Yes sir WRVR all day & Less Davis your the man. Back in the day.when it went off the air I went crazy.
Wrvr was such a fabulous station. Great DJs great music.
Such a crime it became a country western station
Those were the days !
this feels like an african yo yo ma composition. very rich and joyous.
Thank you for posting this. It was my parents' favorite.
Very relaxing!
Thanks for this. One of my favorite songs of all time and I couldn't find it anywhere
Master at work.... Golden Fingers...
When this record/album came out I was a teenager working a top 40 pop music station. Listened to it and loved it, knowing the station would never play this, i asked if i could have it. They gladly key me take, i never tire from hearing this wonderful music, one of my all-time favorites. 👍🏽😁
Had this back in the late 70s after hearing it on WBUR in Boston (hosted by Tony Cenamo) but lost the recording to a flood. Also, always liked/preferred the quintet version of The Pilgrim from the flip side - perhaps due to having listened to that version a zillion times. The duo version is great, but the quintet version is my fave. Would love to see that posted too ;) THANKS!
I have the old vinyl AND a new version where it is called "Mannenberg is where it happens" as Abdullah first wanted it to be. The record company decided to call it Cape Town Fringe. The new copy has the backside picture as front cover. Side 2 still is called "The Pilgrim".
Lieven Van Paemel I will put your words on a link I posted on Facebook.
@@karmatrinleyeshe I'm lucky to have both on vinyl... Even after ages passing, this still is an immediate "Djeez, there we go again!!!! and again and again... Optimistic minimalism with a wide vibe and range... Heaven.
A wonderful find - haven't heard the original since 1970's and never this excellent❤ mix
I used to have this record, love this!
Man this jam brings S.A. flashbacks during the old days at Jabulane in Soweto.
I am not a "new" fan,but i always appreciate
I bougth this album in 1977.
So powerful !
Thanks for let us know this beauty,,
Bro Abdullah Ibrahim is one of a kind and a great legend indeed. I have been playing his collection the whole afternoon.
This is one of the GREATEST SONGS EVER!!!
Beautiful sounds...nothing synthesized.....keep it up Rodney...
Yes! Thanks for the story. There is something so simple, yet so hypnotic about this piece. I find Dollar Brand generally has an uncannily accurate sense of tempo - his left hand rolls along so steady. Here, he's on point the whole 13+ minutes. Fantastic accompaniment as well.
Up there with the best of the Jazz genre!!!
Awesome music! I love the music of Abdullah Ibrahim. 🙂
I heard Dollar in 1975 or 76 at Karl Berger’s house in Woodstock New York. He was playing Karl’s grand piano and because of his peddling and fingering techniques, in the middle of his performance I started hearing cellos being bowed….wow…what a performance!!!
long live ibrahim SRI LANKA
Abdullah I'm sorry I never had the pleasure of playing with you guys your music is Awsome. What a inapration to so many musicians. I could listen to your music all day. Keep writing .my brother. One Love Ramsey
Africa !!! I love it...
Merci! Good song!
Oh boy! What more can anyone demand after this?.....
this is great hade the pleasure to see him life
j'ai commencé avec "african marketplace" il y a bientôt 40 ans et la musique de cet artiste sensible me touche toujours autant.
very nice song. un grand homme Abdallah .
I just love this.
I have the old vinyl lp and have played it thousands of times since I bought it in the 70's.
It's simply SUBLIME. Thank you for posting this on you tube. Good quality. :)
All time favorite!❤️
Still have the vinyl!!
From shitty modern EDM to this glamorous gem. Ain't ever looking back.
some modern edm is cool checkout dj sabrina and iglooghost
Listening to this makes me proud to be born in Capetown, saw him once live at the artscape in Capetown it was a experience which changed my life for ever.
"You're listening to WRVR, where jazz has never sounded better, and I'm Les Davis. "
WRVR. Sigh. It's where I learned Jazz
Still have a T-shirt from RVR “ The proud sound of American music “.
Memories of hearing this at 17yo on WRVR while driving over the Pulaski Slyway into Manhattan. An instant all-time favorite. Driving over it right now in my mind like it was yesterday. Awesome days,.
Right on my groovy brethren... I'm Bartholomew Baxter 😎
Perfect - he is coming to NYC in October. For his birthday and for mine too - :) hehe
This takes me back. It is a favorite of mine as well.
Heard this in NY many moons ago on WNEW-FM. Drove to Manhattan and found Chiaroscuro Records and brought the LP back home. An all time favorite! It can be bought on CD. Look for Abdullah Ibrahim - Mannenberg. Amazon has it! Oh Yeah, Baby!
Thanks so much for posting.
Grate music this should be played all over the world to let people know what real music sounds like
wow epic
True. It would be amazing if the master tapes are still in tact and they did a comprehensive reissue with alternate takes.
Thanks for posting this, it's so great...
Happy birthday, Abdullah Ibrahim!
(Oct. 9/22)
heaven on earth! could thereever be another musical creation such as this? While i did listen to wrvr back in the day and
lovely - those melodious 70's - plenty of world music
One of my all time favorites
I was in Jersey City , NJ with a broken jaw from a fight when Cape Town Fringe came out. It kept me going.
masterpiece of its kind never to be replicated again...pure art
agree
that's awesome. I have the old vinyl too - bought it at Leopold's Records in Berkeley CA, along about 1978 or '79 ...
First hear this on KKGO in LA late 70s, fantastic piece of music.
Real music.
Ken Williams
From the earth to the stars
I have the album but I would love to get a digital version somewhere
Danke!
nice song!
Thanks man. Toda' raba'. Grasie, grasie..
“Oh Manenberg! Jy kan na New York gaan, maar ons bly hier in Manenberg.”.
One of my favourite record, unfortunately impossible to get it on Spotify
love this always
Where have you been!!!
Love this!
And i thank you.