Composer / Jazz Trumpeter  Hannibal  Lokumbe

A Conversation with Bruce Duffie




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The journey of composer Hannibal Lokumbe, trumpeter of the Music Liberation Orchestra, has taken him from the cotton fields of Elgin, Texas, where he was first inspired by the spirituals and hymns of his grandparents, to the stages of Carnegie Hall and much of the world. He spent twenty-five years in New York City playing trumpet and recording with some of his jazz heroes (including Gil Evans, Pharaoh Sanders, Roy Haynes, Elvin Jones, and McCoy Tyner) and is the recipient of numerous awards including The USA Artists (Cummings Fellow), The Joyce, Bessieʼs, NEA, and Lifetime Achievement Award from the Detroit Symphony Orchestra.

Lokumbe is a leader in expressing the African-American experience through orchestral and choral music, with a particular focus on civil rights leaders. In 1998, the New Jersey Symphony commissioned and premièred God, Mississippi and a Man Called Evers about the slain civil rights activist Medgar Evers. Other works include Soul Brother, inspired by the life of Malcolm X, and A Great and Shining Light, about former Atlanta mayor and United Nations Ambassador Andrew Young.

He has composed works for Carnegie Hall, The Kronos String Quartet, as well as the Philadelphia, Baltimore, Cleveland, Detroit and Houston Symphonies. His groundbreaking African Portraits was performed and recorded by the Chicago Symphony under the direction of Daniel Barenboim and has been performed numerous times since its November 11, 1990 Carnegie Hall début. In addition, Dear Mrs. Parks, which pays homage to Rosa Parks in the form of imaginary letters to the civil rights heroine, was commissioned, performed and recorded by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra in March 2009 and released by Naxos [8.559668]. He recently played the rôle of Luke in a major production of James Baldwinʼs play The Amen Corner at The Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis, MN.

==  Biography (above) is from the Naxos website.  The material (below) is from other sources.  


Hannibal Lokumbe (born Marvin Peterson on November 11, 1948) grew up on a farm, and initially received his musical education through his mother (an organist) which he deepened at high school. He first played drums and performed with his own group beginning in 1961, the Soulmasters, who went on tour between 1965 and 1967 (also with T-Bone Walker). He studied at North Texas State University from 1967 to 1969, and moved to New York City from 1967 to 1969. He played with Frank Foster, Eric Kloss, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Roy Haynes, Elvin Jones, Archie Shepp, Clifford Brown, Sam Rivers and Gil Evans on his album Svengali.

In 1973, Peterson performed the first part of his suite "Children of the Fire" as part of the Newport Jazz Festival. In 1974, he played following his performance with the band of Gil Evans at the Montreux Jazz Festival and at the New Jazz Meeting Baden-Baden. In the following years he was repeatedly present in Europe with his own Sunrise Orchestra, and was also on tour with George Adams and John Scofield. He performed the suite "The Angels of Atlanta" with a gospel choir, which he dedicated to the victims of a mass murderer. He also participated in productions by Don Pullen, Kip Hanrahan, Andrew Cyrille, Billy Hart, Bardo Henning, Johannes Barthelmes and Richard Davis' New York Unit.

In 1992/93 he composed for the Kronos Quartet. In 1995, he performed his large-scale third-stream oratorio "African Portraits" with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Daniel Barenboim. In recent years he has lived in New Orleans, where he created portraits of African Americans in the series "And Their Voices Cry Freedom" at the Contemporary Arts Center. Written in 2005, soloists, choirs, the Detroit Symphony Orchestra and conductor Thomas Wilkins gave his oratorio Dear Mrs. Parks about the American civil rights activist Rosa Parks. This was followed in 2019 by his oratorio Healing Tones with a choir, soloists and the Philadelphia Orchestra under the direction of Yannick Nézet-Séguin.

 



It is always noteworthy when a living composer has a major work performed by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, especially when conducted by the music director, Daniel Barenboim.  Even more significant is a recording of that work.  In May of 1995, African Portraits by Hannibal Lokumbe achieved both.  There were three performances (which also included music of Samuel Barber and Elliott Carter), and the recording was issued by Teldec later that year.  (Names which are links on this webpage refer to my interviews elsewhere on my website.)
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One of my own pleasures during the last quarter of the twentieth century was to interview many of the classical music artists who came to Chicago, and Lokumbe agreed to meet with me during his visit.  A portion of the conversation was aired on WNIB, Classical 97 when we broadcast the recording, and now, in 2024, I am very pleased to present the entire chat on this webpage.  A truly a happy circumstance was that the preparation of the material co-incided with Juneteenth.

The discussion ranged from specifics about his musical work, through deep thoughts about mankind
s existence.

Here is that conversation . . . . .


Bruce Duffie:   You are a composer and a performer, and also producer.  How do you juggle all of these aspects of a career?

Hannibal Lokumbe:   I have a great manager and wife, so she keeps everything very organized for me.  Actually, it’s a fascinating kind of existence because, like Rachmaninov said,
“Composing is one thing, and playing is yet another.  It’s really true, but I find myself having choices, and having various kinds of experiences.  I wrote a play that I’m acting in, so that’s a learning and humbling experience as well.  [Laughs]  I’ve always been a great fan of Sir Laurence Olivier, so when the theater company actually asked me to act in this piece, and I said, Wow!  Maybe I should try it!  But it’s good doing a lot of different kinds of things.

BD:   If each day was 140 hours, would you utilize all of them?

Lokumbe:   I would need 200!  I always say that for the past ten years I’ve been feeling like I’m running out of time.  I need more time.  I would like to spend a lifetime in the hills of Ireland with that music.  I’d like to spend a lifetime in the Rain Forest with the people called the Pygmies.  I’d like to spend a lifetime with the indigenous people of Australia, and with Lakota people in South Dakota.

BD:   Is there is a danger that you’re trying to pack too much into one humble lifetime?

Lokumbe:   Could be, but so far I haven’t seen any signs that it has compromised the quality of my work, because basically I do what I’m told.  My music, my ideas, my concepts all come to me through the spirit of my ancestors through dreams.

BD:   So, you do what you’re told from inside?

Lokumbe:   Absolutely!  It’s a wonderful feeling to have come to the point where I realize that.

BD:   Is there any possibility that you would be able to get enough done in your lifetime?

Lokumbe:   Probably not.   I was just saying to my wife that, take the trumpet for example, I hear so many things on the instrument I would like to do but they are so elusive.  It’s a kind of elusive beauty, but the attempt and the surges are fascinating, and that keeps me from being frustrated.  But I feel so far away from it sometimes.  There’s so much.  It’s like looking at the sky on a beautiful night, and seeing all the heavens and the stars, and even though you see the stars, you know that beyond all the visible stars are just endless number of stars.  There is a fascination to experience those stars.  It’s a strong pull, and it’s the same with music.  That’s why I need more time to live more in different cultures.

BD:   So, beyond the notes that you put down, there are millions and trillions of other notes?

Lokumbe:   Absolutely, and concepts.  I’m convinced of that each time I have traveled.  I was in Istanbul, and met a sacred man by the name of Münir Nurettin Selçuk.  He’s known as the Father of Turkish music, and hearing him sing in his earlier years, I was fascinated with the scales and the timbre and approach of the voice, as well as the rhythms, the concept of the rhythms.  The Minister of Culture took me to the music school there, and I had the privilege of hearing the oldest known music they had, played by the people who could still perform the music on their instruments which were played hundreds of years ago.  They took me on a musical journey from as far back as they went musically, all the way up until today.  We would go from room to room, and in each room you could hear how the music was changing in form and rhythm, but yet retained some of the basic musical principals.  That was fascinating.  Then they gave me this huge stack of music that I haven’t even had time to look at.

BD:   With those scores, maybe you can see some of the evolution of the music?

Lokumbe:   Yes.

BD:   This is one small area in Turkey.  You’ve also been all over the world.  Are you trying to make a music which is for all of the world, or are you trying to make different kinds of music for different corners of the world?

Lokumbe:   Ultimately, a song of love done by the Lakota people will be felt by a person in Northern Scandinavia.  The love and the compassion in that song would be felt and understood.  So although there are different styles of music, ultimately what comes from a person’s soul is not that much different from what comes from another person’s soul wherever they are.  I’m as healed by Brahms as I’m healed by Duke Ellington, as I’m healed by the so-called Pygmies.

*     *     *     *     *

BD:   They say that music is the universal language...

Lokumbe:   That’s true.

BD:   Do you feel that music is one language, rather than being many musics all over the world resonating together?

Lokumbe:   I’m convinced that music brings the peoples of the world together like nothing else.  I’m totally convinced of that.

BD:   Then is the music that you write and perform really for anyone on the planet?  For five billion people?

Lokumbe:   Absolutely!  My African Portraits addresses the untold history of the African people, and that has been a much-maligned and much-tampered-with history.

BD:   Can I assume it’s been tampered with by other cultures, but kept intact by its own culture?

Lokumbe:   Yes, primarily through the music.  I teach that to students in my workshops.  Our language was taken, our religion was taken, a lot of our culture was taken, and mainly it was the language.  But the music couldn’t be taken.

BD:   Because that was in their hearts?

Lokumbe:   Absolutely!  African Portraits is the culmination of years of wishing and struggling to get a well-written musical document about African people, and their descendants, that is respectful, and most of all, authentic.  So, it was a great challenge.
 
BD:   Is it a work that is complete, or are you going to tamper with it over the coming years of your life?

Lokumbe:   Over the years I’ll make some additions, because I wrote it as an opera.  All of the music I write, each note I write, has visual components to it.  They come to me in dreams.  A friend of mine, an artist in Germany, did sketches for the piece, and the Houston Grand Opera is talking about staging it.  So I will also write a Gospel section, because basically what the work does is trace the many different musical forms, and some of the major musical forms, that black people created, beginning with the drums.  For me, that is the dreadful middle passage, when those bodies in that boat were hitting against the floor in the swells.  The sounds that they would make together led me to think of the John Henry kind of rhythms on the railroad tracks, with those sledge hammers, and also the cotton fields with the spirituals.

BD:   Is this a completely angry section, or is this a joyful release section?

Lokumbe:   In my quest for Paradise, I realize that I can’t take anger along with me.  However, living in this society as a young black man, I had to deal with a lot of anger because my mind was very hungry.  You couldn’t just tell me something and that was it.  You couldn’t just tell me not to ask what color Jesus was, when every time I would go into a church, I would see a picture of Jesus looking like Charlton Heston!  I wanted to know these things.  I was brutally wounded by the Tarzan hoax.  That played tricks with my mind.  So, by the time I was fifteen, I had been arrested maybe thirteen times since I was eight years old, for everything ranging from fitting the description of someone stealing a case of Jack Daniel’s whiskey, to peddling drugs.  So, these kinds of onslaughts, along with not being told the legacy of your people, does a lot to create a very vicious anger.  Basically what saved me was the music, because through the music I was able to speak about my pain and my anger.
   
BD:   Are you still speaking of this, or have you gotten beyond this to where you’re speaking of positive things again?

Lokumbe:   I was always speaking of positive things.  That’s why I’m forty-six, and I don’t shoot up, and I’m not in prison.

BD:   You’ve managed to overcome all of this, and still retain your artistic integrity.
 
Lokumbe:   Absolutely, through the music.  Music is that powerful.  Music is that influential.
 
BD:   It’s that influential and powerful for you.  Is it possible to instill that power and influence on young peopleblacks, whites, and everyone else?
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Lokumbe:   Absolutely!  That’s why I go to the schools.  The Spirit said that this is something I must do, so I have no choice.  I make a way, I find a way, and I see it happen constantly.  I see students who jump when someone touches them because it’s so unusual for someone to touch them in love.  I see them change from that to hugging each other.

BD:   The original jump was terror?

Lokumbe:   It was pain, like ‘ouch’ and distrust.  Why would you want to hug me?  No one has ever hugged me!  Who are you?  What are you about?  So, when they realize that I love them, and that I’m crazy about them, then I see them change, and I see them start to hug themselves.  We stand in the Circle of Truth before we start the workshops, and we all hold hands, and say what we give thanks for.  It’s amazing how some of them say,
I give thanks for nothing!  Then at the end of the week, they say, I give thanks for me, or, I give thanks for my grandmother, or, I give thanks for everybody here.  It’s powerful.

BD:   It’s a great start, but then it has to keep going.

Lokumbe:   Oh, it will!  When you plant a seed like that, the seed planted deep into the Earth, so the birds can’t come to get it, or the first wind can’t blow it away.  That’s embedded deep into the soul.

BD:   Now that you’ve planted this seed, is it your responsibility to help it germinate, or do you let it go and germinate on its own?

Lokumbe:   I don’t have the wisdom nor the knowledge to enact that kind of cultivation.  All I do is let them know the seed is in them.  I don’t actually plant it.  I just let them know that it’s already in them, and when they see that, then they know what to do.

BD:   You’re exposing the fact that it’s been dormant all their lives?

Lokumbe:   Yes.  I teach them all the time that the Creator lives within them.  Every breath they take is an affirmation of that, because no one can make breath.  No one can make that so.  That must mean something very special, so when they see that, they understand it, and once they do, they are charged with helping others to see the same thing.  What they learn makes them charged with teaching it to others.

BD:   So it doesn’t even really belong to them?  It belongs to everyone, and must spread around and utilized by everyone?

Lokumbe:   Absolutely!  Saying it belongs to just you is as though you are saying the air belongs to you, and it is mine alone.  It nourishes people at the base of Mount Everest, just as it does in Chicago, or Boston, or wherever.

BD:   They are to utilize this little bit of air for this moment in time, and then give it back?

Lokumbe:   Absolutely!

BD:   You’re giving it to them with the music?

Lokumbe:   I feel that I am.  I’d like to do more.

*     *     *     *     *

BD:   You said that so much of this comes to you in dreams.  Are you working with it when it comes to you, or are you merely transcribing what you hear in your dreamlike state?

Lokumbe:   Pretty much I write down exactly what I hear.  Sometimes when I look back at work that has come through me, I can’t make heads nor tails of it.

BD:   You just get it out and see what it is?

Lokumbe:   Yes.  I look at it and say
Wow, that’s interesting.  If I had to really just think about that myself, I never could have done it.  [Both laugh]

BD:   Can we assume that you are leaving this as a legacy for generations yet to come?

Lokumbe:   I hope that will be the future of it.  I hope that people can eat from it for a long time.

BD:   It really is spiritual nourishment?

Lokumbe:   Absolutely!  I’m primarily about healing and enlightenment.  Often in the workshops, when I tell the students why their name is Wilson, or why their name is O’Connell, or why their name is Peterson, it’s very painful to them to realize that their people were owned.  But after they deal with that pain, we go back further before the encroachment of the Europeans.  Then we talk about the Gibran sculptures, and we talk about Democracy, where the elders would sit around the baobab tree.  We talk about the person that the West has been portraying as a holy man, who has the knowledge of the herbs, and how scientists from all over Europe come to study with these people, and learn the plants that they use for different diseases and ailments, and how they are now in different forms of medicine.  So, there’s a lot of pain and there’s a lot of joy, but the greatest danger is not to inform people of their heritage, and not to be truthful about what happened.  Then you have a lot of anger.


gibran Kahlil G. Gibran (`ka-lil jə-ˈbrän) (November 29, 1922 – April 13, 2008), sometimes known as "Kahlil George Gibran" (note the artist's preferred Americanized spelling of his first name), was a Lebanese American painter and sculptor from Boston, Massachusetts. A student of the painter Karl Zerbe at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Gibran first received acclaim as a magic realist painter in the late 1940s when he exhibited with other emerging artists later known as the "Boston Expressionists". Called a "master of materials", as both artist and restorer, Gibran turned to sculpture in the mid-fifties. In 1972, in an effort to separate his identity from his famous relative and namesake, the author of The Prophet, Gibran Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931), who was cousin both to his father Nicholas Gibran and his mother Rose Gibran, the sculptor co-authored with his wife Jean a biography of the poet entitled Kahlil Gibran His Life And World. Gibran is known for multiple skills, including painting; wood, wax, and stone carving; welding; and instrument making.

[There is, of course, much more about Gibran and his artistic achievements,
but since this website is devoted to music, here is some information related to that topic.  BD]

Throughout the 1940s, Gibran's friendship with Hyman Bloom was, in part, due to their mutual devotion to the music of what was then called “the Orient". The young Gibran had always searched for recordings of early 20th century Arabic singers and instrumentalists, and soon joined a group of devotees of Middle Eastern and Indian music that included Bloom, composer Alan Hovhaness, painter Hermon Di Giovanno, sculptors Frank and Jean Teddy Tock, Dr. Betty Gregory, and, later on, James Rubin, founder of Boston's Pan Orient Arts Foundation.

As Gibran's reputation for building instruments grew, he also repaired instruments for players from local nightclubs, as well as creating and restoring instruments for the Museum of Fine Arts [Boston] and folk musicians. A self-taught luthier, he began constructing ouds, sazes, Renaissance-type lutes, and even bows. His vihuela, a 15th-16th century Spanish forerunner of today's guitar, was admired and played by many classical guitarists, and featured in a 1954 concert Court Music Of The Spanish Renaissance at the Museum of Fine Arts. Throughout his life, he continued to indulge his passion for building violins as well as other exotic instruments. In the early 1990s he took time to self-publish his deeply researched theory illuminating the mystery of the brilliant tonal quality of Stradivarius and other Cremonese fiddle-makers. Observations On The Reasons For The Cremona Tone appeared in the January 1994 bulletin of the Southern California Violin Makers, with the convincing and tested argument that burnishing the wood face of instruments prior to varnishing created a compressed, non-spongy, and more resonant soundboard, and consequent tonal brilliance and richness.

gibran

Pochette in its case.
The two photos are from the artist's official website.



BD:   Do you feel that every person must know every step of his own family journey?

Lokumbe:   Absolutely!  The four lines that I read about black people in my history book were simply about George Washington Carver.  The young angels today at the concert did a whole series about peanuts, and how many different inventions Brother Carver gave us from the peanuts.  That’s why we have lotion, and cream, and Vaseline, and plastic, and so much more.

BD:   But in addition to each person knowing his own heritage and his own trail, other people should know other heritages and other trails that have been taken.  [To read my interviews with other black musicians, click HERE.]

Lokumbe:   Absolutely!  That’s like having a beautiful dish on the table that you never sampled before, and all of a sudden you taste it and say,
Wow, that’s wonderful!  That’s why all the birds don’t look alike.  I don’t know why, but somewhere along the way we humans turned our backs on the Spirit that is in us.  Like the young sisters say today, Jesus is local; Jesus is Spirit!  How beautiful it would be if we could get to that level, and if there are no known pictures of Jesus, then either show no pictures of him, or show his picture looking all different ways, and all different colors.

BD:   Have you thought about writing an opera or a theater piece about Jesus and his relationship with the black experience?

Lokumbe:   Not really.  I’m more fascinated about doing something about Fanny Lou Hamer, or Medgar Evars, or John Brown, or someone more easily accessible.

BD:   For instance, we’ve had the Anthony Davis piece on Malcolm X.  Is this a good step and a good direction to go?

Lokumbe:   Oh, the more we think about someone like Malcolm X, the better off we will all be.  He’s a person that just continually evolved, and ultimately that’s the greatest thing we can do with our lives.  Usually if we are seeking the truth, we will evolve to the point at which we began, and that’s the Spirit that’s in us.  I call it the Nameless Timeless One.

BD:   In your writing and your creation and your discovery, are you standing alongside the creation and the discovery of someone like Anthony Davis, and even someone working in another medium, like Spike Lee?

Lokumbe:   Well, I don’t know.  I just follow orders, and where I stand is on the side of inspiring those who have no inspiration, and giving dreams to those who have no dreams.  Wherever that puts me, then that’s where I am.  That’s as close as I know to being able to describe it.  I’m an archaeologist, as I always say.  I like researching things, and I like documenting things very much.

BD:   Then you really are a slave to your Inner Spirit?

Lokumbe:   You can believe that!

BD:   That’s as a joyous slave?

Lokumbe:   Absolutely!  My journey is a beautiful struggle.

BD:   Is it possible for the black society to survive along with the white society that has been built up over two or three hundred years?

Lokumbe:   If there’s some form of genuine restitution made, and if there’s some genuine form of apology.  Then absolutely.  But until that happens, there will always be the danger of destruction.  If I wrongly do something and I just put it off, things only get worse.  It only gets better when I say sincerely that I’m sorry.  It’s only then that we can move on.
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BD:   Let me ask perhaps an impossible question...

Lokumbe:   I like those!  [Both laugh]  It reminds me of trying to learn how to play the trumpet!  [Much laughter]

BD:   Might it have been better if the North American continent had been left to one group of people, and the African continent had been left to another group of people, and the Asian continent left to another group of people, so that they were completely their own society alone without any kind of intermingling of ideas or blood?

Lokumbe:   Oh, no, I don’t believe in that.  I don’t think that is the master design of the Creator.  That has more to do with us.  We build boundaries.  We build walls.  We build borders.  What I like is the sharing, and the respect of different cultures.  I was commissioned by the Kronos Quartet to write a piece about Chief Crazy Horse.  When I first sought permission to do that, I asked the Elders if I could come out, and if they could meet me and give me the right to write about this holy man.  When I went there, and they saw that I was sincere, they shared with me the most profound spiritual experience of my life.  This was in South Dakota.  It saved my life going there, so I would have been very upset if I couldn’t have had that experience because I would just have stayed in Africa.  But when you go to different places, it’s important to be respectful.  Then you are showered with the beauty and the culture of other lands.  But not when you go as though you’re the Top Dog.

BD:   Are you optimistic that we are moving in the right direction for peace on Earth for everyone?

Lokumbe:   I’m concerned about how the children are suffering.  The spirits have told me that the Earth will not continue to allow the children to suffer.  That won’t be permitted to go on much longer because the children are revered by the spirits.  We have to figure out a way to stop so many of the children from suffering.

BD:   Is this something mankind is going to do, or is it going to be a supernatural or cataclysmic event?

Lokumbe:   It’s something we’re going to do ourselves.  The Creator didn’t make Hell, in my opinion.  We make Hell each time we’re disrespectful to each other, and each time we try to destroy one another.  We were given all that we needed, but then we got to the point where we thought ourselves as being the giver of what we can’t make or can’t create.  That’s why so many of our babies are suffering.  We are killing each other for a pair of sneakers.

BD:   It’s a misguided sense of values?

Lokumbe:   Absolutely.

BD:   Then the ultimate question becomes, are you optimistic about the future of humankind?

Lokumbe:   I am optimistic in that there’s so little I know, but I’ve come to know that the Spirit that is in us, is indestructible.  It might take a different form.  Maybe we won’t be in this apartment of blood and bones, but it will take another form, and that’s indestructible.  So, in that sense I gather my strength, and I gather my realistic optimism.   I’m very excited to wake up every morning, and look out at the sky, and hold my hands up and say,
“Thank you!  Thanks for another shot!  Each breath we take is different, and it’s an affirmation of something eternal.

BD:   You view life essentially the same way as I do, which is opportunity.

Lokumbe:   Yes.  It helps you enjoy going to bed and then getting up each day.

*     *     *     *     *

BD:   Let me come back to something just a little more mundane.  Have you basically been pleased with the performances of your music that you’ve heard over the years?

Lokumbe:   Very, very pleased, and very honored at the way people receive the music, and how they are affected by the music, and how the musicians play the music, and how they interpret the music.  I’m in seventh heaven here.  Let me mention some of the orchestral parts for the percussion.  The percussionist in St. Louis made some very unique notations, and here in Chicago, the chief percussionist did an incredible job at getting the parts together, and helping get the kind of gunshot sounds that I wanted in the hall.  People who are experts came to shoot the weapons, to make sure it’s the right sound.  The stage engineers went out of their way to make sure everything is the way I hear it and want it to be.

BD:   Is there going to be movement by the singers, or is it just stand-and-sing?

Lokumbe:   No, it’s just standing.  This is an oratorio form, but we have gunshots when the Europeans attack the village.  I want real gun shots.  I’m not too much a fan of computerized sounds because I’m convinced that in the orchestra, you can find the instrument or a combination of instruments to create any sound, any feeling, any color that you could imagine.  So I want to have real gun shots.

BD:   This is being recorded for commercial release.  Have there been other pieces of your concert music that have been recorded and released?  [Vis-à-vis the recording shown at left, see my interview with David Amram.]

Lokumbe:   Children of the Fire was recorded in 1974 when it wasn’t popular to speak out against the war in Vietnam.  I wrote letters to a number of companies saying that I would like to write a piece about the war, and they all said no.  They didn’t feel it was appropriate material to record at that time.  So, to make sure that I wouldn’t waste time waiting until they felt it would be appropriate
if ever they wouldI went on a tuna fish diet, and saved about $5,000, and produced the piece myself.

BD:   It was then issued as a commercial recording?

Lokumbe:   I issued it on my own company label, and sold about 4,000 in two months.  I’m going to put it out again now [1995], but I’ll probably record it again with chamber orchestra.  [This did not happen, but the original recording was reissued in 2005 on LP and CD.]

BD:   It’s the twentieth anniversary of the end of the war, so it’s appropriate at this time.

Lokumbe:   I never thought about it in terms of being twenty years.  Isn’t that amazing how time can just move like that.  It’s like you blink your eyes, and twenty years have gone.  It’s amazing!  I remember the whole feeling of all of that, and how depressed I was, and how I couldn’t figure out why someone would want to go round the other side of the earth and kill some people.  For what???  But then later I realized that it all had to do with strategic positions, and oil deposits that were found.

BD:   Yes, and rubber.

Lokumbe:   Right.  Look at what that cost our country in spirit most of all.  I won’t hold my breath, but I’m waiting for the day when we get a President that will have the inauguration for that big inauguration ball which costs millions of dollars, and they will go to a little coal mining town in West Virginia, where the people are barely making it, and have the big ball there.  Then have all the money made from the big ceremonies go towards putting that town back on its feet.  When I see something like that, then I’ll know we’re close.

BD:   That’s re-enfranchisement?

Lokumbe:   Absolutely!  Then I’ll know we’re close when can put down the big gold cups and glasses, and everything that the people pay for, and go and just help some of these people who are in pain when they take a breath, and each time they look at their babies.

[We then stopped for a moment to take care of a few technical details.  He then recorded a
‘station break’, after which we rounded out the discussion.]

BD:   How do you wish to be called?

Lokumbe:   Hannibal Lokumbe!

BD:   You’ve abandoned
Peterson completely?

Lokumbe:   Forever I’m happy to say. 
[He then recorded the station break]  “Hello, my brothers and sisters.  This is Hannibal Lokumbe, and you’re listening to Classical 97 WNIB in Chicago, the Windy City!

BD:   Thank you.  May I ask your birth date?

Lokumbe:   November 11, 1948.

BD:   Are you at the point in your career that you want to be at this age?

Lokumbe:   No.  I’m always behind, and I’m always fighting to catch up.  I’m about fifteen string quartets behind.  I’m four or five operas behind.  I’m just behind!

BD:   But you’re always producing, and you’re always doing as much as you can.

Lokumbe:   That’s true, and as I said, it’s a beautiful struggle.

BD:   Most people would equate that attitude with being a slacker, and that certainly can’t be said of you!

Lokumbe:   No, I’m not a slacker.  It’s just I’m behind what I feel I should have produced already.

BD:   Thank you for all you have given us, and we’ll hope for lots more that you will share with us.

Lokumbe:   Thank you!  It
s my pleasure.



lokumbe




© 1995 Bruce Duffie

This conversation was recorded in Chicago on April 28, 1995.  Portions were broadcast on WNIB the following February.  This transcription was made in 2024, and posted on this website at that time.  My thanks to British soprano Una Barry for her help in preparing this website presentation.

To see a full list (with links) of interviews which have been transcribed and posted on this website, click here.  To read my thoughts on editing these interviews for print, as well as a few other interesting observations, click here.

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Award - winning broadcaster Bruce Duffie was with WNIB, Classical 97 in Chicago from 1975 until its final moment as a classical station in February of 2001.  His interviews have also appeared in various magazines and journals since 1980, and he now continues his broadcast series on WNUR-FM, as well as on Contemporary Classical Internet Radio.

You are invited to visit his website for more information about his work, including selected transcripts of other interviews, plus a full list of his guests.  He would also like to call your attention to the photos and information about his grandfather, who was a pioneer in the automotive field more than a century ago.  You may also send him E-Mail with comments, questions and suggestions.