Album Review: Dollar Brand Abdullah Ibrahim – A Jazz Time Capsule from 1987
Alright, let’s talk about this gem of an album. Dollar Brand Abdullah Ibrahim (yeah, that’s the name—both man and masterpiece rolled into one) is one of those records that feels like it was crafted in a smoky jazz club tucked away behind the Iron Curtain. Released in 1987 in the German Democratic Republic (GDR), this thing hits different. It’s not your typical smooth-jazz playlist fodder; nope, it's got grit, soul, and some serious storytelling vibes.
The vibe? Think Contemporary Jazz meets Modal experiments, with Abdullah Ibrahim (formerly Dollar Brand) tickling the ivories like he’s channeling ancient spirits through his fingers. The lineup is tight too—Carlos Ward on sax and flute, Essiet Okun Essiet holding down the bass groove, Don Mumford keeping time on drums. Together, they weave something magical, raw yet refined.
Now, let me zoom in on two tracks that stuck to my brain like gum under a table.
First up: “Zimbabwe.” Man, this track just grabs you by the collar and says, "Listen up!" It’s got this hypnotic rhythm that builds slowly, almost meditative, but don’t get too comfy because then Carlos Ward swoops in with his soprano sax, adding layers of emotion you didn’t even know you needed. And Ibrahim’s piano work? Pure poetry. Every note feels deliberate, as if he’s painting a picture of resilience and hope. When I hear this song, I imagine dusty streets bathed in golden sunlight, people dancing despite everything trying to hold them down. It’s haunting, beautiful, unforgettable.
Then there’s “For Coltrane.” If you’re a fan of John Coltrane (and honestly, who isn’t?), this tribute will hit you right in the feels. It starts off soft, almost shy, like a whispered prayer. But then it swells, growing louder and more urgent, until the whole band is in full flight mode. You can feel the reverence here—for Coltrane, for jazz itself—and it makes you want to close your eyes and just exist in the moment. There’s something deeply spiritual about how Ibrahim honors his hero without copying him. He takes Coltrane’s essence and makes it his own, which is kinda what jazz is all about, right?
What really stands out about this record is its authenticity. This wasn’t made for chart-topping fame or Spotify streams—it was created out of love, during a time when freedom of expression wasn’t exactly encouraged in East Germany. The liner notes by Rainer Bratfisch hint at this context, giving the album extra weight. Plus, shoutout to Michael Schmidt for the design; simple but striking, much like the music inside.
So yeah, Dollar Brand Abdullah Ibrahim might not be perfect—it has rough edges, moments where things feel a little loose—but maybe that’s why I dig it so much. It’s human. Flawed. Real. Listening to it feels like peeking into a secret world, one filled with passion and defiance.
And here’s the kicker: while writing this review, I realized how rare it is to find albums nowadays that carry this kind of history and heart. So next time you’re scrolling through your playlists, hit pause and give this one a spin. Who knows? Maybe you’ll discover something new—or old—that changes the way you hear jazz forever.
