[SPEAKER_06]: Gade sa yo te fè yè swa nan lannwit elèv yo. Sanble gwo. Papa mwen, Avi Fagan. Brom pran retrèt pou sa a, se konsa nou yo trè rekonesan. Pou volontè nou yo ak moun ki, Reese ak Eli te la. Yo deja vann kèk liv.
[SPEAKER_00]: Natirèlman, patnè mwen an, Shayla, mwen pa ka ale tout soti.
[SPEAKER_06]: Galel te chita sou etap sa yo pou ede son an isit la. Ak nan kou gen Terry Carter, ki se reyèlman poukisa tout bagay sa yo k ap pase nan West Medford Community Center a. Sa a se yon eleman fiks nan kominote a, yon powèt etonan. Tout se byen. Oh, ki moun mwen te bliye? Jim ak OH, Bruce tou te ede ak kèk travay kamera pandan tout fen semèn nan. Se konsa, menm nan mitan tout moun sa yo, li toujou mande pou anpil kontribisyon finansye diferan reyalize li. Si ou gade banyèr nou yo, nou ta dwe la pou pifò moun ki ap sipòte. Medford Kominote Medya nan kou, West Medford Community Center a, Medford Arts Council la ak Komisyon an Kilti popilè yo, ak Fondasyon an Medford pou Living Arts. Sa a se tou premye ane nou an kòm yon founisè manje.
[SPEAKER_00]: Anndan kay la patisri Danwa.
[SPEAKER_06]: Yo te etabli yon gaye ekstrèmman totalman enpresyonan. Ant melodi a, ant de gwoup yo, ale wè yo. Genyen tou twalèt pou moun ki ka bezwen pran avantaj sou yo. Wi, gen Triyang Manor, yon konpayi T-shirt lokal ki te fè kèk chemiz etonan pou tout moun ak te fè Exp Realty. Genyen tou plizyè moun ki ap sipòte pèsonèl, ki gen ladan moun ki enskri sou paj Patreon nou an. Li se yon siyati chak mwa ki fè yon diferans nan fè sesyon konfiti ak lòt montre tout ane an. Gen kòd QR toupatou, pou moun ki vle fè don nan Venmo nou an, ki moun ki sèlman ale nan Jazz Medford Festival la, kòm byen ke sa a patikilye paj Patreon, ki se yon gwo sipò. Trè bon, se konsa mwen panse ke li nan tout. Mwen toujou santi tankou mwen te bliye yon moun, men tanpri tounen pita ak Terry Carter ap di ou yon bagay sou gwoup sa a ak espas la.
[Terry Carter]: Trè bon, mèsi, mèsi. Jonatan Fagan se koòdonatè a ak fondatè Medford Jazz Festival la, yon konpozitè etonan ak pyanis, ak tout bagay sou mizik, se konsa ou pral tande l 'byento. Sa a se West Medford Community Center a. Nou te nan biznis pou 90 ane. Nou se nwayo a nan Istorik Afriken-Ameriken Medford Kominote a, ou konnen, nou se bon sou larivyè Lefrat la misterye. Nou gen yon istwa long nan Rio de Janeiro ak sou twa lari yo, ak tout bagay ou pral tande pita. Men, nou vle ale dirèkteman nan biznis la, nou vle asire w ke nou pa diminye tan nou an Premye zak nou an nan demen. Pou nenpòt moun ki gen nou yè swa, nou te gen yon tan enkwayab ak de gwoup yo nou te jwe ak yè swa, ak zetwal yo nan Morningside nan Morningsid Academy of Music, ki te pè. Lè sa a, ak Anita Wood ak ekip li AJ ak ekip la, mwen vle di, nou te gen plezi. Yo kite m 'danse anvan nwit la la fini, se konsa tout bagay se amann. Se konsa, di ou mèsi. Debbie te chante ak Jazz Morningsis tout-Star jwèt yè swa, ki te gwo. Oke, lè sa a, premye samdi nou an te Recita de Samba, yo te pran nan yon koral ki gen menm non ak Jakòb de Bandolim. Sa vle di nan Pòtigè, mwen jwenn li nan sous la, Resèt Samba, ki te rele pa yon gwoup apps, se yon metòd pou montre gou a nan anpil mizik brezilyen nan fòm pur li yo san yo pa aditif atifisyèl, mwen renmen, tankou yon machin batri oswa echantiyon elektrik. Chefs, kwizin yo, mari ak madanm, Ana Borges ak Bill Ward, ak ki baze sou Boston a vibran endistri mizik brezilyen
[Unidentified]: Jis pi bon an.
[Terry Carter]: Pi bon Bossa Nova a ak Samba, osi byen ke espesyalite rejyonal tankou Ford, Ihecha ak Coco.
[Clayton]: Mwen swete mwen te fè yon bon travay.
[Terry Carter]: Mwen konnen brezilyen mwen an pa. Ok, Anna Borges te orijinèlman soti nan Recife, Pernambuco, ki moun ki te kòmanse karyè li nan Brasilia chante nan klib lokal yo ak teyat.
[Unidentified]: Finalman, li te aprann jwe gita ak anrejistre nan yon lekòl mizik nan Brasilia, kote li te etidye vwa li Jane Dubos se nan yon popilasyon koray ki etidye teknik klasik ak popilè.
[Terry Carter]: Apre ane nan kolaborasyon fèmen ak gitaris brezilyen Alosa Alcantara, mwen transfere nan Boston ak kolaborasyon an mizik kòmanse ak Bill Ward, Bill Ward, Bill Ward. Li se yon pyanis, gitaris ak chantè, epi li eksplore anpil mond mizik nan pwofondè. Mwen renmen sa. Sa a se powetik. Li te kòmanse kòm yon pyanis djaz, te genyen etid la fristrasyon nan yon elèv lekòl segondè, ak Lè sa a, etidye Dann Wall ak Sam de Margolis nan Oberlin Conservatory la. Li te resevwa premye dosye li a laj 13 an, men se pa yon inivèsite Sa a se vre powetik nan toubiyon an nan mizik brezilyen. Dènyèman, li te bloke nan linivè pyano klasik la, kap chèche yon metriz nan entèpretasyon pyano nan Boston University, kote li te etidye ak Goya Charon ak Gilda Goldstein. Mesye ak Mesye, pa gen plis tarde, resite samba.
[Clayton]: Mwen te rive nan matant mwen, mwen te rive nan matant mwen Czech Vil, tanpri padonnen mwen. Mwen pa konnen ou konnen tankou yon lavi bèl bagay. Vil, tanpri padonnen mwen. Mwen te panse mwen te ale, mwen te panse mwen te pral mouri. Vil, tanpri padonnen mwen. Etranje Padonnen m ', men mwen pa konnen ou konnen ke lavi se konsa bèl san mwen Nou renmen ou! Bon chans!
[SPEAKER_02]: Mèsi anpil. Premye chante a se pa Carlos Vira, epi ou konnen li se youn nan bondye yo nan Bossa Nova. Se konsa, si li twò ta, padonnen mwen. Sa a se tit la. Mwen pral eseye tradwi.
[SPEAKER_05]: Mwen pa trè bon nan sa a, men mwen panse ke ou pral jwenn yon bagay mwen chante sou yo.
[SPEAKER_02]: Se konsa, pwochen travay la se tankou enfliyans nan djaz. Lè sa a, gen enfliyans nan djaz. Se konsa, li la tankou yon chante mwen menm mwen te renmen djaz ak enfliyans nan yo te pou kont li. Se konsa, tankou ou ap pale sou jan mèt li, men djaz gen li. Epi ou konnen, ou pral wè ki jan yo ale.
[SPEAKER_05]: Extranjero Extranjero , Ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, Ale, ale, ale, Ale, mouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri,. , kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri , kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, ru n, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, ru n, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, r Nasyonzini, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, r Nasyonzini, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, Kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri,
[Unidentified]: younn
[Clayton]: Extranjero Extranjero , Ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, Ale, ale, ale, Ale, mouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri,. , kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri , kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, ru n, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, ru n, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, r Nasyonzini, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, r Nasyonzini, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, Kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri, kouri,
[SPEAKER_05]: Mèsi. Mwen panse ke pwochen travay la se, sa a se yon vag.
[Clayton]: Men, mwen panse ke li nan jis yon aksyon ou ka pran.
[SPEAKER_05]: Lè ou renmen, li enposib pou ou kontan pou kont li.
[Clayton]: Mwen pa ka itilize li paske mwen pa konnen ki sa yo di. Sa yo se ti bagay vini ak prale. Benediksyon, meditasyon, li enposib pou ou kontan pou kont li. Sa a se yon vil. Sa a se yon vil. Sa a se yon vil. Sa a se yon vil. Ou pa ka wè anyen ou ka sèlman wè. Mwen pral tounen nan plaj la. Li enposib yo dwe isit la pou kont li. Mwen pa konnen ki jan yo sèvi ak yon bagay lapè ke mwen pa bezwen. Vèt ak ble, vèt ak ble. Li enposib yo dwe isit la pou kont li.
[Unidentified]: Mwen pa konnen lyrics yo. mizik.
[SPEAKER_05]: ak Mèsi.
[SPEAKER_02]: Mwen vle chanje nan pwochen an.
[SPEAKER_05]: Pafwa nou diskite ke mwen vle chante chan sa a. Mwen panse ke, mwen pa vle jwe chan sa a. Mwen te panse, ki sa? Men, sa pa gen pwoblèm. toujou. Mwen te ale nan Samba Mountain nan peyi Jezi a, bwè tout bagay sa yo, epi mwen te wè Sambath. Majik la atire m '. Kè mwen soti. Mwen nan Bahia, Street Party. Nan kantin nan lalin lan se Samba. Bwè limyè yo, tcheke Bambas, yon majisyen sedwi m '. Kè m 'ap debòde. Mwen nan Bay la, I. Pati Lalin, mwen pral. Nan kafeterya lalin lan, ou dwe desann. Tablo sa a se blan epi yo ka kalm. Mwen pral bat bravo pou konfyans. Mwen an sante, mwen soti la. Oh, o, oh. ak Ok Mwen soti nan glise, mwen soti nan Izu de Noe, mwen gen yon ti gwayav ak kale bannann. Mwen an sante, mwen soti la. Se mwen menm ki soti nan Gamboa nan Mauwa Square, ak mwen menm ki Samba Mountain. Se mwen menm, mwen an sante, mwen soti la. Kòmanse avè l 'estipid ak Mamba Bamba. Inyon Ewopeyen sou, Inyon Ewopeyen sou Dali ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ � Mèsi. Chante João Bosco yo toujou fou. Se poutèt sa, sa a se mond lan sou latè nan Jezi.
[SPEAKER_02]: Sa a se kote baya gen yon anpil nan kontribisyon Afriken yo. Sa a ki jan li dekri ki kote li ye, epi li se yon chante trè pwisan ak bèl. Li difisil pou chante samdi maten. Chantè renmen chante nan mitan lannwit. Ah, mwen fatige anpil. Se konsa, kite a tounen nan chak lòt, sa a se Sampa. Sampa se tankou abrevyasyon nan St Pòl. Se konsa, sa a se soti nan Caetano Veloso, ki moun ki tou dekri li kòm Sampa la pou premye fwa. Paske sa a se yon St Pòl se tankou New York. Se konsa, li te di, sou bote a ak pwezi nan St Pòl. Sa a se peyaj.
[SPEAKER_05]: Yon bagay ki te rive m ', sèlman lè mwen te resevwa isit la lè mwen te travèse Epiranga ak St John Street, mwen ensiste pa gen anyen. Natura, chante yo powèm konkrè, dezi a pridan nan de ti fi. Ou pa bezwen fè vanjans kont yon tradiksyon pi konplè. Kisa ki te pase nan lide m 'yo. ♪ Sèlman lè mwen te travèse Avenue Ipraranga ak St John's Street, ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ � ♪ Li pa fin vye granmoun ankò, lè nou pa mutan, pa gen anyen te anvan, epi li difisil yo kòmanse ajoute yon bagay mwen pa konnen, li soti nan yon lòt rèv, yon vil kè kontan te aprann yo rele li reyalite paske ou se andedan. Moun yo maltrete sou liy lan. Kolekte epi detwi pouvwa monetè a nan bèl bagay. Li son lèd. Mwen wè powèt ou soti nan jaden yo ak espas yo, atelye forè yo, bondye lapli yo. Pan Ameriken, Afrik, Ras Utopia, Samba timè, posib Nouvo Boyar ka pran plezi. Mwen te wè jaden yo ak espas yo parèt ♪♪ atelye forè yo, bondye lapli yo, Utopian Panameka, pi fò posib tonm Samba, New zonbi Quilombo ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ � Mèsi. Mwen panse ke ou ka konnen sa a si ou vle danse.
[SPEAKER_02]: Mwen pa ka di anyen.
[SPEAKER_05]: Samba ak Men zile samba sa a melanje ak fwi pasyon ak Bagay ki pi enpòtan an se ke mwen te kite fwon an ke mwen te vle rive paske Samba te eksite ak sa mwen te vle te Samba Mèsi anpil.
[SPEAKER_02]: Tout se byen. Plis chante danse. Sa a se ti gason pi renmen m 'Buarque. Se konsa, etonan. Se konsa, ki jan tradiksyon dans. Pa sispann okenn moman. Li pa yon bon mari, non. Se konsa, kite m 'danse.
[SPEAKER_05]: Pitit gason triel mwen an, asirans se devan ou, men ou pral fè li, men li pral fè anpil. Li te dis èdtan depi Samba a se cho, satisfè cheve nan nwa ak pèmèt ti fi a danse pasifikman. Mwen pa vle lanse Confetti, men mwen te di sa. Ou ap atake. li fè m mal. Epi, si ou kontinye kouri ak figi mari ou, ti fi sa a ka santi anwiye. ♪ Retounen nan yon nonm tris, ap toujou gen yon fanm kontan ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ ♪ Komik plis ♪ Mwen se dis èdtan ak moun yo Samba yo trè cho. Lapenn yon nonm se yon fanm ki san kay, yon fanm kè kontan ak yon mil fanm, yon mil moun san moun sa yo. ♪, ti gason koute chè, men ou te vin pi mal. Men, li nan yon kondisyon trè move, li te dis èdtan ak moun yo Samba yo trè cho. ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ Li te twa èdtan, Samba a te cho, fè cheve a nwa kontan, kite ti fi a Samba moun pou kont li. Dèyè nonm tris la, li toujou yon fanm kontan. Dèyè fanm sa a, yon nonm toujou vini. Se konsa, pou bon bagay ou, o, o, pran li soti nan tèt ou, o, merite fè ou jwenn ti fi ou yo. ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ Mèsi. Mwen jis vle remèsye tout moun pou envitasyon an yo dwe ak Greg isit la ak Beough.
[SPEAKER_02]: Sa a se premye fwa nou yo. Trè kontan yo dwe isit la. Renato Malavati. Non mwen se Ana Borges. Si ou ta renmen rantre nan nou ak imèl lis enskri lis imèl Medford sou Samba Island, santi yo lib yo fè sa. Mwen ankouraje aktivite yo. Mwen menm tou mwen se yon pwomotè nan konsè a. Epitou soti nan Medford. Li nan gwo yo jwe nan kay la. Trè bon, trè bon. Trè bon, kidonk kite a fè ... Ou ka konnen tou sa.
[SPEAKER_05]: vi viu que o amor nunca viu algo assim ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ ♪ Menm lè a vole, ak ti fi a ki te wè l 'ap toujou te gen sa a gade sa ki mal ♪♪♪♪♪, ou dwe wè, ou dwe, pa bezwen renmen jodi a, pa gen okenn renmen ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ � [Cantando Emportuguês ♪♪ s Inyon Ewopeyen Pergunto, Masovênãovem Ou sèlman wè renmen, mwen pa janm wè anyen tankou sa a ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ ♪ toudenkou vole leve, li wè ti fi a ki te vin. Li te vini. Te toujou frè sa a ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ � Aubrigado.
[SPEAKER_02]: Se pou nou Bolero. Wi, li renmen Bolero. Ann fè sa. Sa a se soti nan Dorival Caymmi. Sa a se yon lòt chante sou renmen. Se pou nou Bolero.
[SPEAKER_05]: ♪ Non, tanpri, menm jan ak yon moun Lanmou rive nan lavi. Ou pa alèz ditou. Apre sa, mwen te rive tou. Epi, tankou kay enpòtan nan lavi nou, lavi fè jwèt ou pou ou. Ou pa envite okenn lòt moun. Mwen pa mwen oswa nenpòt moun. Lanmou rive nan lavi. Ou pa apwopriye. Chè, ki jan enpòtan sa a se soti nan lavi nou nan lavi nou. ♪ Pa kite okenn moun ki renmen bouyon tankou bouyon ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ Lè lanmou rive nan lavi, ou pa pare, mwen menm. Mwen renmen anpil, ki jan enpòtan lavi nou se, Pa gen moun ki renmen yon moun, mwen menm ak mwen envante renmen, pa mwen, pa mwen Mèsi. Sa a se mizik la nou ka chante tout jounen an, menm chante a, dwa? Trè bon. Mwen renmen sa. Ankò? Tout se byen.
[SPEAKER_02]: Ankò, li nan gwo yo dwe nan Medford. Avèk ou, yon gwo odyans, espesyalman. Mèsi anpil pou envite chak nan nou. Padon, mwen pa sonje non tout moun.
[SPEAKER_05]: Li twò bonè. Men, mèsi ankò pou envite nou. Ann fè dènye chante a. Dènye chante a se pi bon an?
[SPEAKER_02]: Bwè? Wi, kite a fè li. Èske w konnen? Bwè, balans? Tout se byen. Se konsa, sa a se yon lòt chante pa João Bosco. Se konsa, nou dwe ale. Anpil enèji, gwo goudwon.
[SPEAKER_05]: Figi Chak etwal frèt gen yon limyè lokasyon. Nwaj yo nan syèl la enfòme pwen an tòti. Mwen ye Etranje etranje Nan chak etap nan liy sa a, ou ka domaje balans lan nan pèfòmans ou ki konnen espere ke chak atis la Mèsi. Mèsi anpil. Bill Ward, Greg Toro ak Renata Malavazza. Non mwen se Anna Borges. Nou pral jwe nan Harvard Plaza semèn pwochèn. Si ou mande, mwen ka di ou plis. Mèsi. Tout se byen.
[Terry Carter]: Oke, sa a se Simedford. Pa taccanho. Samba reorganized, pyano Bill Ward. Anna Bor nan vwa li. Greg Toro se sou bas la. Di mwen ankò. ak Renato sou tanbou a. Tout se byen. Trè, trè bon. Oke, kite a pran yon ti repo pou karyè a jan nou prepare pou dezyèm zak la. Konsèy fò mwen se antre nan ak patwone boutik patisri Danwa paske yo fè byen. Gen yon anpil nan kontantman nan li. Tout sik la, tout bè se sou bò pasta a epi li trè bon gou sou bò sale. Se konsa, ou konnen, kenbe epi pou yo jwenn. Yo gen limonad ak dlo frèt. Se konsa, ok. Tout se byen. Mwen pral wè ou nan kèk minit.
[SPEAKER_03]: Mwen pa janm te konnen sa yo te kapab fè. Mwen pa ka kwè ou tonbe damou pou mwen. Ou ap di tout moun mwen konnen ke mwen nan tèt ou tout kote ou prale. Mwen pa ka kwè ou ye Apre yo tout, li te di ak te fè, panse mwen te gen chans. Mwen pa ka kwè sa yo ka fè. Mwen pa ka kwè ou tonbe damou pou mwen. Ou ap di tout moun mwen konnen ke mwen nan tèt ou tout kote ou prale. Li te di ak te panse mwen te gen chans
[Terry Carter]: All right. All right. Hello everybody. All right. So we had a beautiful first set. They said that they samba was marvelous. Really really good. And hopefully we will at least meet if not exceed your expectations for the second part of our program today. For those of you who don't know me or who I haven't had a chance to meet yet, my name is Terry Carter, Terry E. My mother says use the initial, that's why I gave it to you. So it's Terry E. Carter, E stands for Eugene. And I direct elder services here at the community center. I'm not going to talk a lot, but I do want you to know just a little bit about We've been in business for 90 years representing the historic African American community of West Medford and this is the second building on the site. The first building was little more than an old army Quonset hut that was brought here from the defunct army base in East Boston going way back, World War II. And it was set on the site and it remained our home from like 1945 to the early 2000s. And then it basically collapsed under its own weight. And we were fortunate enough over the next several years thereafter to build this building. And this is the current home of an organization that really, really is very near and dear to my heart. I grew up in West Medford. I'm born and raised on Jerome and Monument Streets, not too far from here. And so the community center, Duggar Park, where all the basketball players are, well, you know, another story for another day. And, let's see, Duggar Park. the Hervey School, Shiloh Baptist Church, a couple other places. If our parents didn't know where we were, they knew where to find us, okay? Because we were at one of those three or four places. But in any case, Jonathan and I, Jonathan Fagan here, who convened and founded the Jazz Fest, yeah, absolutely. We got together, it's going on six years ago, we decided that we wanted to do something project-wise, him as a musician, me as a poet, that would bring those two worlds together under the banner of jazz, because he's a splendid jazz composer, arranger, and poetry, and I'm turning into more of a lyricist as time goes by. I just started out as a garden variety poet, but now I can add lyricist and poet laureate to my name. Okay, so we're gonna start off with where we think, as a community, we start off. So we're gonna do a tune called Hired by the Mystic, okay? All right, now, everything that we do is this intersection of jazz and social justice, okay? Some of it might not fit your ears real easily, but I ask you to open your hearts because I speak the truth in love. Is that cool? All right, all right, very good. All right, let's do this. They gave my people the lowlands, and not much of it. Just a few streets high by the river. Banks turned to fly and die behind the red lines, and it wasn't about the money. Class was an irresistible force. Race was an immovable object. Perhaps it wasn't the written rule, but white folks knew the legal tool to keep us in our place in this mystic valley space, where slaves and rum and chips had built some mansions, made some millionaires, and hid some old money. So it was hard by the mystic we went, muddy and a bit turned down, the only place where one could be brown in this ancient Middlesex County town. But we named it and claimed it and made it our own. Even in the heat of summer, when the shores were parched and the soil was rank, with the decay of aquatic alchemy, we were one with the river. We followed its flow to the lakes and the sandy beachfront. Like our own Jordan Shore, we baptized and blessed our brothers and sisters in Christ. We caught the little fishes to and became the TV multitude who our Lord Jesus fed, hired by the mystic. We became community. We commanded unity. We embraced the village and raised up our children in the way they should go. As the river ebbs and flows, the tides would turn and our fortune grows. A few more streets become our home. Houses on Sharon join Kin on Jerome. From Duggar Park to the railroad tracks, the landed folk make more room for blacks. The color line recedes a bit. Church and school and center sit. The ville becomes the heart of it, hired by the mystic shore. Now the worm has surely turned, and folks who left have surely learned things couldn't stay the same. That muddy mystic most days is clean. The banks are freshly cut and green. Faces once distinctly brown are not the only ones in town. These streets that once were our confines must now embrace what gentry defines, condominium culture, bedroom convenience, university sprawl, access, egress, excess, and largesse. Now those lowlands have become the highlights of a trending city. And sometimes that success isn't pretty when it's at the expense of your black and brown and tan family. And yet the river still turns and bends. from where it begins to where it ends. The only place where one could be ground in this ancient Middlesex County town where we named it and claimed it and made it our own. All right. All right, okay, now, okay, we're into it now, okay? We're into it. So this is a cool segue because... There were, in that ancient Middlesex County town where we named it and claimed it and made it our own, there were a few institutions, especially for us kids. There was, of course, Duggar Park. There was the Hervey Schoolyard where we grew up and played on that side of town. There was the West Medford Community Center where all of us kids came for Cub Scouts and Girl Scouts. playing pool and bumper pool and ping pong and so on and so forth. And one of the other institutions that was particularly near and dear to our heart was right around the corner, a few streets down on Jerome Street, and it was called The Little Store. It was a tiny red hovel on Upper Jerome. a bit run down and rough around the edges. And Mr. Henry seemed so old to us even then, with a lot of whiskers, impatient, and a little scary. One would suspect that he didn't even like kids, but he really must have loved us. Or else, where did all that penny candy come from? He had all of it, no, seriously. We'd bust in there with a few nickels or a handful of pennies, all loud and unruly. He'd hush us up while he finished with grown folks' business. Then he'd be back, like a black Willy Wonka up in that old shack. He'd peer over those old horn-rimmed glasses and tell us he didn't have all day. Then he'd blow open one of those small brown craft paper bags. and get to stuffin' while we were oohin' and ahin' and huffin' and puffin'. See, Mr. Henry had all the treats, all of our favorites, a hundred great sweets. Root beer barrels and pixie sticks, squirrel nut zippers and banana splits, green mint juleps and button strips, red licorice ropes and bottle nips, He had bazooka Joe bubblegum and a tiny sucker called a dum-dum. Jawbreakers and Tootsie Rolls, sugary love for little kids souls. Candy necklaces to wear and bite, and waxy red lips was such a sight. Fat gum cigars and kid cigarettes, right beside the crunchy six legs. Mary Jane chewies and BB bats, hot fireballs and Mexican hats. Just the genuine Hershey's Kisses, all of the hits and none of the misses. Like kid taffy squares and Necco wafers, liquor made in Boston baked beans. Gold rocks, nuggets of gum in a bag, a kid's idea, sweet tooth swag. Before the days of Laffy Taffys, we would gobble up peppermint patties. Before we knew about gummy bears, Twizzlers always came in pairs. Chewy cow tails with creamy filling, but sugar babies had top filling. Reese's peanut butter cups had us squealing like newborn pups. mica nights and orange slices, salt water taffy and tiny prices. Lifesavers and charms and fruity flavors. We grab those bags like potty favors. Uncles were a favorite choice, and milk duds made us all rejoice. Jolly ranchers and bitter honey, we always got a lot for our money. Talk about kids getting excited. Our greedy fingers could barely wait. You can't imagine the flame he ignited to take that candy like fish take bait. from cold January to chilly December. More kinds of candy than I can remember at the Phil storefront on Upper Jerome. I knew I had to write this poem. See, Mr. Henry had all the treats, all of our favorites, a hundred great sweets. All right. All right, all right. Yeah, yeah. We love it. Okay, so here's the band. Jonathan Fagan on the keys. All right. Greg Toro on the little sexy. This is not the big sexy. The big sexy is the really big bass. This is the little sexy. It's still very sexy, but it's a smaller bass. And my man, Gordon Engelgau on the traps here. Okay, we are the Ally Project. We're going to move this thing along. Boy, where am I? Yeah. OK, here we go. So I'm not going to lie or front as we say in the hood. The neighborhood has changed pretty dramatically, all right? So I'm gonna talk a little bit about how I remember it and what it's become, okay? So this piece is called Corner Lot. All right. standing at the apex of Arlington and Jerome, trying to remember the black and the brown and the tan. Ronnie and Otis used to live in the big house on the corner lot. It's probably changed a half a dozen times since then. Current owner's been there for a minute. He's good with his hands and he knows his way around wood and tools. Place has been gussied up quite a bit. Picket fence is not quite white, but if you know, you know. Asian kid in a Tufts hoodie just whipped by in a helmet and roller blades. Didn't see much of that back in the day. The university sort of hit on the hell side, trying its best to be a baby Ivy. But the co-eds come here all the time now. Basketball, tennis rackets, pickleball paddles in tow, on bikes, in Benzos and roller blades. We used to bust ourselves up pretty good on those rickety metal skates with clunky keys and leather straps. Nothing a little Vaseline and Mercurochrome couldn't handle. How did Henley put it in Invictus? Oh yeah, bloody but unbowed. Not too many white and off-white kids hanging out here back there then. It was as if the invisible lines once drawn to keep us in sometimes kept other folks out too. Now they've pretty much taken over. Dug a park, the Rhone tennis courts, the Hervey schoolyard, and a hundred addresses on Arlington, Lincoln, and Jerome. A host of our remembered places, so few of our original faces. Meanwhile, back in Ronnie and Otis' old place, I'm still standing like that centurion, knowing that Jesus doesn't have to go in to heal his servant. He just has to speak a word. I guess I keep hoping that he'll speak a word to the corner lot, too, and bring back the black and the brown and the tan. Across the river, it's low tide. The smell is gone and the grass is greener than I recall. That was our little park, away from dugger and a lot less hectic. We had makeshift bases or discarded cones for football and softball. We lost a few in the river, but nobody was going in that muck to retrieve anything. We'd probably wait in that water today. They planted some trees there many years ago. They're all pretty big now. Maple and ash, I think. Nobody plays baseball or football there anymore. But there are lots of dogs frolicking off leash and gaggles of fat Canadian geese daring pitties, pugs, and poodles to chase them all. I can't imagine my childhood without losing a few softballs there. I can't imagine not hearing Mrs. Allen call little James Michael to come and eat, or little Charlie to watch us play from his folding chair, because his spindly legs were too weak to let him run. I can't imagine that I'm still here. But Ronnie and Otis, Darryl King and Frankie French, Aaron McDaniel and Marky Davis are all gone. Mark was as thick as a big tree trunk, so we came up with Oak for him. Aaron was Spud, Frankie was Fruit Man, and I was Top Cat. Too cool, ran to school. Everyone wants the corner lot now. A little more land and perhaps the new perspectives that angles create. I wonder if that meant anything to Ronnie and Otis, or Jed and Miles and Gib, Barry, Coco, Keith Wing, and Kenny Byfield. Certainly meant something to the white folks looking to displace, transplant, and uproot the local color. Black folks built homes here, only place where they were allowed to be, where they could color inside the lines Medford once drew against the perceived discomforts of darker skin. We were here first. First firefighters, police officers, war heroes, shop owners, tradesmen, postal chiefs, teachers, artists, and preachers. We were the human bedrock of the only neighborhood they'd let us build. The old church is gone now. Nelson even changed the street number as if to erase the fact that the original Shiloh Baptist ever existed. But if you know, you know. That corner still has a cornerstone. 1900, and Nelson couldn't do nothing about it without a more draconian demolition. Two more condos in the house of the Lord. Two more houses that us first folk can't afford. Two more dismissals of the blessings of his word. One more holy stone rejected and ignored. Thank you. Thank you. All right, we're going to switch it up a little bit. You're familiar with the jazz canon. You know a couple of the players. You know Duke Ellington and Miles Davis and maybe Herbie Hancock and a few others. And then maybe you know John Coltrane. All right, so Coltrane, some of the best of the jazz standards were his compositions with that beautiful horn of his. And one of them was about one of his loves. Her name was Naima. And so if you know Coltrane and you know jazz a little bit, you probably have heard Naima before. So this is a riff, a take on Naima. It's called Reprise for Naima. He would blow this note in the midnight air, aloft in the ether it floats out there. Staccato cadence sets a mood of bluesy lyrical attitude. Improvisational mystery like Monk's piano epistrophe or Miles' tone poem in a silent way or Flanagan's peace at the end of the day. Syncopated in sharp, bright tone, a countdown to stardust, a twilight zone, like a blue train running against the night, setting the pace, then out of sight. With heartmen crooning or bags-on vibes, trios, duets, quartets, and tribes, the blues, the ballads, the avant-garde, incredibly gorgeous, impossibly hard. Giant steps move us miles ahead. Cooking up bop for Harlem street cred. Melody's hand to the harmony wed. Piano's lullaby fresh in the bed. Rhythm rocks where the drummer led. Rhythm rolls where the bass man sped. Rhythm birthed what the saxophone bred. Rhythm heard what the master said. How could he make the bitter taste sweeter? How could a tortured mind deleter? How could the mellowed scotch be neater? How could the smoke from each cigarette create blue beads that cast a net, create blue beads of cascading sweat, create blue haze that confounds regret, create blue nights that we can't Coltrane's notes are a crystal scale, a velvet scream in the urban travail, the heavenly riff of a love supreme, the pungent riff of a lover's dream. Coltrane's notes are a cozy romance, the breezy bounce of a bop and a dance, the languid lilt of stray's lush life, the cakes cut by the artist's knife. Coltrane's notes are a standard refined, like gold in a pan or gemstones mined, the sparkling glow of a hopeful dream, hot black coffee with a hint of cream. Coltrane's notes are Naima's reprise, like madness that brings a man to his knees, or sadness that comes when lovers part, the gladness removed from the balladeer's heart. A tight arrangement cuts the gloom. The melody says that love's in bloom. The harmony spirit engulfs the room. The bride says yes to her lyrical groom. The groove and the beat then jump the broom. The kip drum resounds with a sonic boom. As genius is birthed in a soul filled room. Musical mythology mocks, a twisted path the hero walks. With shield and sword the hero stalks. The temperance shakes her twisted locks. Medusa's snakes, his vision shocks. Holds up the mirror to stony blocks. The harp and the horn melt icy rocks. Serpents retreat and symphony talks. Coltrane's notes are a roller coaster, a hallelujah and a paternoster, the glorious jolt of the maestro's hand, the saxophone titan is in command. Coltrane's notes are a crazy rhythm, the squawk of chords and playful schism, the frenetic pace of Mr. P.C., the coolest round midnight will ever be. Coltrane's notes are genius refined, like gold in a pan or a gemstone's mine. The sparkling glow of a lover's dream, hot black coffee with a hint of cream. Coltrane's notes are Naima's reprise. Like madness that brings a man to his knees, or sadness that comes when lovers part, then gladness revived in the balladeer's heart. Thank you. Thank you very much. All right, all right. So we're going to stay on the jazz frontier for a minute. Herbie Hancock, and later Quincy Jones, they did a tune, Quincy covered it, Herbie Hancock did it for us, and it's called Tell Me a Bedtime Story. So we do a little riff on Tell Me a Bedtime Story, it's called Tell Me Another Bedtime Story, all right? It's just a sweet little jazz ditty, okay? Cool. Is this where the sandman picks up each grain, restoring the beauty and reducing the pain? Is this where we fly to never never land, like the troop of lost boys with Peter Pan? All of the mystery of hidden dreams. Nothing now is as it seems. Tell a sweet tale that sugars and creams with flashes of sardines and shining moonbeams. As I lay down to my slumber, paint a landscape of ochre and umber. Let there be a hint of romance. Turn up the quiet. Love wants to dance. Tell me a bedtime story, please, of secret gardens and pecan trees, of babbling brooks and waterfalls, of gentle breezes that summer calls, of hidden havens and wondrous spaces, of astral planes and mystical places. Let it be a melody that sings in four-part harmony. Let it resound in symphony that folds into dreamland's reverie. Tell me a fable of Arabian nights spread on a table of earthly delights, free from the label of anger and fights, willing and able to scale higher heights. Tell me a bedtime story now, as the baby rocks in the maple bough, as the blue ox puts his nose to the plow, and the sweaty farmer wipes his brow, as each green seedling happily vows to yield each fruit the ground allows, and seven dwarfs whistle a happy tune, and sleeping beauty awakens soon. Let there be a melody that sings in four-part harmony. Let it resound in symphony, then fold into dreamland's reverie. This is the time when the sandman whispers and seven grooms meet seven sisters. And the prairie sings an ode to love as the angels release the turtle dove. For now, I lay me down to sleep and pray to God, my soul to keep. All right. Jonathan Fagan on the keys. Greg Toro on the bass. Did you hear that? You heard that, right? All right, that's Gordon Yango, guy on the drums. All right. All right, so listen, we're going to the intersection of jazz and social justice, all right? All right, and when I say we ain't playing, we ain't playing, but we're playing. Is that okay? All right, all right. So we ain't playing, but we're playing. Okay, this is called alienation. Good? Okay. All right. Here is a fence without a gate. You can't get in, you have to wait. You can't be foreign or somehow strange. This isn't your home, home on the range. You can't arrive in a rickety boat. Our castle has a treacherous moat. We won't host refugees at our door. You're not the sort we're looking for. Take good note, we stay on guard. We don't want you in our backyard. Despite the danger you seek to avoid, our best deterrents have been deployed. You say our country's full of peril. But like stray cats, we think you're feral. We think you're prone to filth and crime. We don't want either at this time. We don't care what the nations say. They won't do more than hope and pray. Our stance is clear on human rights. Lock the door. Turn off the lights. You saw that statue in the bay. It stood for liberty until today. It welcomed tired and huddled masses, not criminals from your underclasses. We've got militias on the border. They own big guns to keep the order. Law enforcement lets them stay to help them keep your kind at bay. Why do we feel that this is good? Why can't we share the neighborhood? Is it because you're black and brown? No, we just choose to stand our ground. Stay in your place. Deal with your issues. We'll send lots of coal and tissues. Don't form caravans and run. You'll find yourselves in the sight of a gun. There are no streets here lined with gold. Our eyes are closed, our hearts are cold. There is no flowing milk and honey. American skies are not that sunny. The fences we build keep aliens out. They serve to keep our faith devout. This land we scheme to make our own is ours, you see, and ours alone. As long as you stay on the other side, we can maintain our national pride. Please don't show us your anguished faces. We're cutting back on other races. We've had enough of global inclusion. We're ridding this country of race confusion. We know how to win these fights and limit all these civil rights. safety nets and the welfare state will have to stop for the lost and late a rising tide that favors the rich that's our famous favorite campaign pitch me too movements and black lives matter in all due time your ranks will scatter you think that you shall overcome just cross this line we'll give you some We'll give you a taste of burning churches and black boys hung from oaks and birches. We'll give you a taste of incarceration in prisons.com, the corporate plantation. We're taking this country back to the time when a brown life wasn't worth a dime, except for the way it worked in the field, except for a bushel of crops to yield. We're taking this country back to the day when white meant right in every way, when men of privilege could rape and beat and kill for spite, then lie and cheat. We're taking this homeland back to the season when hooded marauders needed no reason to hunt folks down with rifles and dogs through the lonely woods, the swamps, and bogs. When confederate flags were boldly raised, and crosses in the darkness blazed, and the land was full of racial hate, served with grits on a breakfast plate. You thought this worm had surely turned, and young black bodies no longer burned. Yet here you are again today, with the specter of prejudice winning the day. The MAGA caps you wear with pride, they let us know who's on your side. The pointed hood and long white robe, fine clothes for the xenophobe. Perhaps this place that immigrants covet can somehow heal and rise above it. Until that day, our best advice to call this home, you'll pay a price. You'll pay a price as many misguided embrace the hate their voice provided. His Twitter rants and sound bites full of ethnocentric cock and bull. You'll pay a price as higher walls lead great climbers to greater falls, where fences are the new condition announcing the refugees' abolition. This isn't our nation's greatest hour, this flexing of white supremacist power. And yet the season is fully revealing the stain of hatred we've been concealing. So take good note and be on guard of deadly traps around the yard. Our agents are on high alert to keep you foreigners off this dirt. Tolerance is in short supply. We won't let your kind occupy this sacred land our forebears built. We don't subscribe to Anglo guilt. This fence was built without a gate to keep out all who come here late. To all you aliens, we don't like strange. No room at the inn in our home on the range. All right. Hard troops, admittedly, but troops nonetheless. All right, so we're gonna stay there for a minute, and then we'll try and ease up off of your feelings. This piece is called The Ally, and it's actually kind of the eponym for our project. So we're gonna do Ally for you. Friends become distant and strange as if you have some creeping mange. Family wonders why and rings their hands. How could you choose them over us? We're your blood, bone of your bone, and flesh of your flesh. They're not like us. They're so different, less than, not equal to, beneath. Declarations have been made. Arrangements are in place. These are matters of our kin. Signs have been painted. You're going to be cast out. You're going to be shunned. You need to stick with your own kind. An ally? Is that what they're calling you? Well, it's a hard road to hoe. You're making strange bedfellows. You're casting your white pearls before swine. You weren't raised to behave like this. Our family is a proud and honored clan. We'll never be lower than any black man. There's no room for them at this table. There's always been two sides of the track, a right and wrong side of town, our kind and their kind, your people and those folks. It's going to kill your mother and your daddy's turning over in his grave. You want to shout out, Black Lives Matter. But the master plan is to make them scatter, to serve them pain on a silver platter. Our people own them. They worked this land for 200 years. They were our property, our Negroes. Hell, our Negroes to make it plain. You can't be out there with them. You can't be shoulder to shoulder with the ones we need to dominate, relegate, subjugate, eliminate. They want reparations. Well, we're making preparations to give them 40 acres of hell and a mule kit to the gut. You don't seem to get it, son. This is the way the races run. There's not enough room for everyone. The time for black and brown is done. Show your pride and pick up your gun. Pick the side that has always won. You can't be out there with them. You can't be shoulder to shoulder with the ones we need to dominate, relegate, subjugate, eliminate. All right. All right, all right. Yeah, yeah. All right, all right. Once again, the Allied Project. Jonathan Fagan, Greg Toro, Gordon Angle Guywin, I'm Terry Carter. Too cool, these bros got me sweating out here. Got me sweating. All right, okay, so we're at a couple of different spots and then we're gonna finish up. But let's do something nice and mellow. This is called Legacy, okay? Everybody enjoying themselves? All right. I know it's warm out there. I know. But you're braving the elements and enjoying the day, hopefully. Very, very good. It's not for you to tell your own story. That is the burden of your children. They must shoulder this yoke with love and loyalty. And yet, you have not gathered them up and bid them sit before the campfires of their elders. You have not seasoned their meals with the spice of their identity and the savor of their names. How will they learn to walk the walk and talk the talk? How will they learn to tell your stories even as they live out their own? Sons and daughters and heirs, if you didn't smell the burning ash or feel the warmth of the flame on your neck, you don't know. If you didn't revel in the growl of the griot's earthy reply or the trill of the mockingbird's cry, you don't know. If mama was too tired and daddy too long gone to carry the wood, light the spark and stoke the flames, you don't know. And until the lion cub knows how to tell the pride stories, the hunters will always tell them first. The good book says train up the child in the way they should go. Will we let them depart from the community of faith and the city on the hill without the master's touch, without the oil of his anointing and his full measure of grace? Will we not show them Anansi's clever ways, Popo and Fafina's journey, Mufaro's beautiful daughters, the people who could fly the wonders of Wakanda, and Songololo's new tacky. The prophet says he will encourage fathers and their children to return. But how will they know the way home if no map charts the seas, measures the roads, cites the peaks and valleys, and names each forest despite the thickening trees? Will the burden of the elder stories be too heavy for the children? Will they care to carry? Will they dare to tarry? Will they linger at the foot of the griot? Will they hunger for the wisdom of the sage? We must put them on this page, where hard work earns a man his wage, where power is measured by God's own gauge, where miracles scarf at the wand of a maid. We must share with them the truth that is loyal and fierce like Naomi and Ruth, that doesn't wait for the confessional booth, that has the bite of the panther's tooth. This is the gift of legacy, where a glorious past sets the captives free, and a candle's light beckons liberty. Sons and daughters and heirs, I bid you sit before the campfires of your elders, hear their stories, gather up their stones, and build up your strength. They will show you Anansi's clever ways, Popo and Fafina's journey, Mufaro's beautiful daughters, the people who could fly the wonders of Wakanda, and Sanga Lolo's new tackies. Soon you will be the herald. Write these things down on the tablets of your spirit. Let them put a running in your feet. With each quickening step, you repel the arrows of the hunter. With the shield of abiding faith, you capture the flags of your enemies and gather up their spoils. You remain the lions of the pride and your tails will always be your children's bread. You will never abandon the community of faith. Though you build a thousand cities on a hill, drawing wondrous strength from the master's touch as the oil of his anointing fills your clay jars with his grace. Thank you. All right. Quite a while ago, it was either my first or my second book. Speaking of first and second books, I've got books up there. There's actually a Ally Project CD, for those of you who still have a CD player. And it's got a lot of our music on it. So if you're interested, it's up there. We also have a book. Jazz Festival t-shirts, which are lovely, and our food venue, the Danish Pastry House, will still be here after we leave. So if you didn't get a snack and you wanna get one, come back and sit out under the tent and talk, or however the move hits you, it's all there, still there for you. All right, okay, so I think we're gonna do two more, and then we're gonna be done. All right, so. I love that, I love that, I love that, I love that. If it's not fake, if you're faking it, don't do it. But if it's, oh, okay, I love it, okay. What are we doing? Oh, we're doing Bobby, okay. All right, so a while back, on one of my early books, I think it was the second one, I have a painting in my house. It's called, what's it called, T? Oh, it's called Bobby Doesn't Live Here. And basically what it is is my attempt, my humble painting attempt, to kind of depict black women in all shapes and sizes, because they come in all shapes and sizes. And there may be one or two of them who are very, very narrow and somewhat Barbie-like, somewhat Angel Reese-like. But for the most part, it runs the gamut. So I wrote this poem called Barbie Doesn't Live Here to go with that. piece of artwork. And every once in a while, you revisit a piece of poetry and you say, well, what could I have done differently? Or what could I have said differently? So I had this notion, and it came out like this. And it's called, If Barbie Had a Choice.
[Unidentified]: Hahaha.
[Terry Carter]: Si barbi gen yon chwa, mwen panse soti nan yon sèl jou a, li pral fè yon bagay nwa. Li pral bay moute po krèm nan ton klere Ebony. Li ta pale nan dyalèk la Igbo ak atitid vre Rèn nan ak ou lanfè, kolon. Kole bwat woz la nan yon bwat woz ak lèt blan ak anpil pye palmis ak plaj nan background nan. Mwen pa panse sa. Ou pa ka gen tete yo psikedelik psikedelik ak ranch sa yo bese nan ki mini Goldie Hawn. Mwen bezwen yon bagay ki pi enpòtan. Mwen bezwen yon anpil nan patyo koton Senegal ak totèm batik klere ak tout koulè yo nan peyi m 'yo. Mwen bezwen konekte bagay sa yo byen epi montre mond lan sa m ap fè dirèkteman nan Wakanda tayè nan Ruth Carter School. Mwen bezwen nan Dahomey, pa nan Mattel ak Disney. Seryezman, si Bobby te gen opsyon a, Ken gade plis tankou Ali oswa Denzel oswa Idris Elba, Britanik chat la chokola nwa. Sa ki te orijinèlman melanado, pa m 'yo, epi li te definitivman pa plis twal Nwèl pase 150 grenn nan papye. Li ta tonbe tankou Marvel T'Challa, reveye pa Tupac, ak fè byen nan yon konpayi tankou Malcolm. Li ta bo nonm lan ak bouch nwa li san yo pa bak, Fertile, Fertile, ak plen nan forè twopikal. Li ta kenbe nonm li nan chak pous nan tranbleman an nan kwis pye nwa dènye powèt la. Si ou pa konnen, YouTube. Li pa bezwen bou Brezil la, tits Beverly Hills 'oswa Adobe Photoshop travay reyinyon yo. Manman Afriken yo te pran swen tout bagay sa yo nan yon genomic jenere, ou panse?
[SPEAKER_07]: Si poupe barbi gen yon chwa, ou pa janm ka achte Jwèt R Us, F.A.O.
[Terry Carter]: Schwartz oswa Mari Arnold. Li pa ta dwe yon mennaj fo twofe, yon sèl bò nan ti fi a oswa Bonnie Clyde a. Li pa ta dwe yon ti fi Ameriken Addie, yon liy dirèk nèg move oswa yon manman dans McDie. Li pa ta dwe yon ti fi, Margot Robbie, ni li te yon barbi oswa P. Diddy Harvey soti nan Cherry Tat. Mwen fini pwosesis la ak plis rim, se sèlman yon ba an kwiv kèk ka fini nan tan. Yon Senior Member nan Bobby pa reprezante istwa san sans. Pèsekisyon frè yo pa ka chita sou kloti a. Fanm li yo se reyèlman gwo. Yon jwè te jwenn jwèt li trè entans e pa te janm gen yon piki reyèl nan rekonpans yo nan renmen. Malgre ke li te kapab pake nan Bentley oswa Bentley oswa Bentley, li ta pèdi nan glisman tè a akòz lapli a reyèl. Yon nouvo barbi Nubian bezwen respè fou. Li pa t 'sijè a blues oswa neglijans. Li pral goumen pou li tankou elit la Goji. Li pa pral dou, modès oswa piti. Mwen parye li pral diferan. Yon tchoul oswa yon mantè pa pral yon menas. Anplis de enpresyon nan dèt nasyonal la, bote li yo ak bon konprann pa pral swe. Sa sansasyonèl barbi blan ka gen yon jè jwèt, men avyon an nanm pa te ateri ankò. Rèn Afriken mwen an te fè lukse a reyèl bliye, menm si mwen ta ka vle kenbe sa a vole leve. Ou ka vle kenbe li. Wi, ou ka bezwen kenbe li. Tout se byen. Ok, kite a fini kote nou te kòmanse, li la ak fanmi paske tout moun, tout moun isit la, ou konnen epi jwi, nou renmen tout moun ki defi kalori yo paske nou konnen li la avèk nou isit la. Se konsa, kite a wè si mwen espere jwenn li.
[SPEAKER_07]: Èske ou vle powèm tab kwizin? Ok Ok Ok Ok
[Terry Carter]: Tout se byen. Mwen konnen anpil nan sa mwen di jodi a, ak sa nou jwe jodi a se, nou konnen, atire kòd diferan ak rezonans yon fason diferan ak tout moun. Men, powèm sa a an patikilye, petèt yon ti boutik, pote yon imaj de ki jan kay ou gade nan kèk pwen. Mwen ka prèske garanti ke pa gen pwoblèm ki kote ou soti, ki sa ki ras, background, nan kèk pwen, priyè mwen, espwa mwen se ke kay ou ap gade tankou li nan kèk pwen, ak espere toujou fè. Travay sa a rele yon powèm sou yon tab kwizin. Pa gen moun ki vle kite. Yo tankou ramase sou pwatrin lan, bati ak satisfè. Li te gen yon bon repa, mayi ak kolektib fre, poul fri ak sòs salad pòmdetè. Klòch la se grès ak gra. Sa a se chanm sa a. Bondye mwen ak ti fi, ou grav kounye a? Sa a se yon konvèsasyon reyèl. Nou se moun reyèl. Fanmi, èske ou konnen de kisa mwen pale? Nou se yon fanmi. Ou ka pran sant lanmou anvan pòt la ouvè. Ou konnen pral gen Walnut Cakes. Te a dous pral jele. Moun ki nan sid la pral chape soti nan nò a, aksan an ap epesir, ak lonbraj la nan peyi a pral byento pral fèmen nan lavil la. Apre debri yo transparan, yo pral rete sou tab sa a pou yon tan long, lave asyèt, kenbe manje oswa anbalaj yo nan Tupperware ak Ziplac. Tout moun ap gen yon sak ak yon istwa pou di. Gason ap bat ou. Glise nan yon bagay, yon bagay, yon bagay ♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪ li toujou Yo tankou je Nwa Jezi, nan ansyen enpresyon sa a, plen lanmou ak pèsistans. Manje nanm nan grate. Jèn mwen yo priye nan syèl la ak ti bebe a te chante mizik li. Tout moun te pike ak trankil. Sa a se chanm sa a. Vrèman etranj papa. Èske remisyon kansè nan tibebe? Legliz. Sa a se yon konvèsasyon reyèl. Nou se moun reyèl. fanmi. Èske w konnen de kisa mwen pale? Nou se yon fanmi. Allied pwojè, dam ak Mesye. Jonatan Fagan nan kle a. Greg Toro se sou bas la. Li ap kouri, nonm. An reyalite, li te gen yon maryaj pou yon ti tan. Sa a se nonm mwen. Tout se byen. Gade sa. Li se yon vanyan sòlda malonèt. Li pral antre nan fwe a ti kras epi ale nan Connecticut pou maryaj la. Tout se byen. Lè sa a, gen nonm mwen an. Yon sèl la sou tanbou a, yon sèl la, nèg la soti nan Gordon Corner. Tout se byen. Nou se yon pwojè alye. Nou pral retounen demen nan Medford Jazz Festival la ak lame de evènman yo. Nou pral gen soti nan Sir Berkeley College, ki te dirije pa Medford Terr-Lynn Carrington. Li pa pral isit la, men elèv ou yo pral fè li epi yo ka kite kay la. Youn nan tanbou li yo, yon jèn fanm yo te rele Ivana Cuesta, ap mennen efò a, epi li se Terr-Lenn Carrington, 22-23, kidonk ou ta ka vle ale deyò epi yo gen yon gade. Lè sa a, nou pral San parèy rlach. OK, li la aktyèlman Donna McElroy, prezidan nan depatman vwa Berkeley a, ak Lè sa a, nou pral gen prezidan aktyèl la nan Depatman Harvest Berkeley a, ki gen non yo se George Russell Jr ak George Jr ak George, nan pwezi espò. Aktyèlman, si ou kapab, li ta dwe konsidere kòm yon vwayaj si dimanch ou pèmèt li, jan li pral zanno. Trè bon, se konsa nou kontan ou avèk nou ak rense nou tout jounen an. Mwen espere ou gen hydrasyon. Sinon, ale pi devan epi bwè kèk dlo ak kèk te frèt. Si ou se yon ti kras Piquant, ale pi devan epi pou yo jwenn kèk LOH. Yo toujou gen yon anpil nan bon sirèt, sandwich pitza ak krwasan, ak tout bagay sa yo diferan yo fè. Nou renmen yo. Sa a se yon magazen patisri Danwa. Yo se sou Boston Avenue nan kwen Boston ak Winthrop.