Taj Mahal's Continuing Musical Mission
Once a curiosity, a legend's legacy gains sharper focus
by Sean McDevitt
November 27, 2000
'If you see me as a blues musician, then that somehow just doesn't quite do it.'
If Taj Mahal had his way, you'd walk into your local record store, and you'd find one giant shelf with everything. No individual sections containing labels like "pop," "jazz" or "blues." Just one big happy store, where Bing Crosby, the Rolling Stones, and Django Reinhardt all peacefully co-exist in a state of musical bliss.
As you might have surmised, Mahal isn't a fan of categorization. He feels it's too limiting, too restrictive. He bristles at being called a "bluesman." He thinks Napster is a wonderful thing. And he remains at odds with the modern-day machinations of the record industry, unable to comprehend why such a relatively small quantity of music is made available by the majors for mass consumption.
Mahal may be unconventional, but he's no hypocrite. His own body of work, which for more than three decades has embraced the sounds of the Americas, Africa, and the Caribbean, has taught us time and again that all music is inextricably linked.
His journey continues. Nearly a dozen releases -- both reissues and modern-day projects -- during the past three years have provided a broader perspective on Mahal's considerable contributions. June marked the release of Shoutin' In Key: Taj Mahal and the Phantom Blues Band Live, and in August, Columbia re-released his first four albums, including 1967's Taj Mahal, The Natch'l Blues, The Real Thing (live, 1971), and The Best of Taj Mahal (1976). Last year brought about the acclaimed Kulanjan, a beautiful, intriguing collection of songs that explores the relationship between American blues guitar stylings and their roots in West Africa.
Mahal, who continues to tour and is currently developing his own label, is one busy man. But he found time to talk during a recent visit to New York City. His morning walk behind him, Mahal entered the lobby of the Gramercy Hotel, found a chair, and was quickly in Interview mode. Needless to say, it was educational.
You've been remarkably prolific as of late. Do you ever slow down?
Oh yeah, sure. I've just never had the luxury of disappearing for four years because the last record was so huge that I had to figure out how to spend my money. [laughs]
Your feelings about being pigeonholed as a bluesman are certainly well documented. But how do you see yourself?
It's always been a situation where I've been a working composer. If you see me as a blues musician, then that somehow just doesn't quite do it. If you cut out that whole thing, then you realize that what it really comes down to is that I'm a composer. I'm also a multi-instrumentalist, a vocalist. I sing my own songs. And I relate to these various traditions that I feel are connected through family, extended family, and influenced by influence.
In your mind, were you always a world musician?
My perspective is cultural and world-based. It's always been a global perspective. Even in the early days when nobody knew me, they'd go, 'Well, that album is perfect, but what was that calypso song doing on there? What does that got to do with it?' I think that the way music is played [in America], it's terribly narrow cast. Somebody who was talking to me the other day said that 98 percent of all artists that are signed to record companies never sell more than 10,000 records. So all of the business of the record industry is made on two percent of the signed artists. So who is in control? Hello? Thank you very much, Napster! Napster changed the whole thing. The record companies are like, "This is a serious threat."
Next Page: The Empowering Effects of Napster; A Moment, a Sound, and a Revelation....
Sean McDevitt, a New York-based freelance writer, is a former editor at Guitar
magazine.
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