There are cities where people never say hello.

I walked home today with a bleeding Achille's heel and an incipient bad burn. There were flecks of the beach's fool's gold in the spot rubbed raw by my shoe - this was noted after limping across a four-way stop two blocks from home and bravely looking down the back of my lower leg. But oddly, today was the most beautiful I've seen Long Beach...it presented an alluring face, reminding me of why I'm loathe to leave.

Walking to the bluffs, I felt my shoe chafing, but paid it little mind. The cloud cover was sporadic and pleasant; chilly with a light wind, maybe 68 degrees? Watching the kites floating in the sky, I thought about some decisions that need to be made. But to be honest, I didn't much want to think on them and so let the music float me away as I walked. The beach was clean - the city had come like a thief in the night and taken all the garbage. The water glowed turquoise, a rare sight at any time, and those millions of speckles of pyrite made the sand look as though it had been touched up by a Bond girl make-up artist. It glowed and shimmered, reminding me of my old flower-shopgirl gig and the champagne roses we'd spray with gold glitter for proms and weddings. One abusively red tomato sat perfectly amongst the strands of washed-up bladder kelp - I have no idea why. As I walked, I passed a tall black man playing a cornet in the sand...didn't recognize the tune, but it was a little mournful, and provided an interesting dissonance with what was playing on my iPod. On my way back later, he would play "My country, 'tis of thee"...fair enough, with the 4th creeping up and all. An ironic harmony, as I chose to listen to Hugh Masekela's eponymous album today.

"Masekela" was a revelation for me. I found it on a ¿Revolución, No? jag; was in an absolutely torrid love affair with the site. It is most certainly one of my favorite albums; a desert island pick, as it were. And the man is so f***ing cool. You listen to "Head Peepin'" and tell me the man wasn't hip as they come. "You can snort and smoke and pop and shoot, and you dig your LSD, but baby did you peep into your head last night?" Brilliant brass player, but with a frosty sound...less like South Africa and more like New York. This album bounces back and forth between cool instrumental licks and powerful revolutionary protest tracks. Here's the song "Blues For Huey" - any time I hear it, I can instantly transport back to a northern city, in the late fall, grey, rainy, cold, face upturned, leaves swirling, that dancing piano and smooth trumpet making me close my eyes in enjoyment.

In what seemed to be a natural progression, brainpan heated by the sun, and giddy from how pretty everything was, I moved on to the compilation "Hugh Masekela/From The Vaults Of Chisa", on which Masekela pulls little-known tracks from the Chisa years 1965-1975. The first track is the previously unreleased and amazing "Afro Beat Blues" by Ojah with Hugh Masekela, a heavy funk-ridden song. I was desperate to find more Masekela albums and had wound my way up through LA traffic to Amoeba, thinking I had a pretty good chance for an instant fix there. This cd stood out prominently in all its militant-looking yellow and black, and featuring a favored image of him. I didn't realize until home that it was actually a compilation of other musicians he'd worked with as a producer. Doesn't matter, as it's wonderful. It led me straight into the wonderful arms of Letta Mbulu.

"Letta" is an album so little-known it makes me sad. She's an amazing, volcanic talent - strong voice that over the years became strong enough to nearly cut. Both she and Masekela were expats from South Africa residing in the US; both were taken under the guidance (and friendship) of Harry Belafonte, among many others. Listening to Letta Mbulu is such a phenomenon for me; I want to write in glowing terms but find the words failing me. "Letta" has highs and lows, but the highs keep you coming back for another fix. The first track I ever heard by Mbulu was Mahlalela (Lazy Bones), remixed on the ¿Revolución, No? site as an add-on to the "Masekela" download. Then, on the Chisa comp, four of her best tracks from "Letta" are presented (including the original "Mahlalela"). Awesome stuff. The song is included in the YouTube "vid" here:



Anyhow, it's time to wrap up. I may go on further and explore Letta's work with Cannonball Adderley's label, or perhaps acquire a few albums by Miriam Makeba. If so, I'll certainly let you know! Another walk on another day.