Solange on her Eldorado Ballroom series, her love of the tuba and the long wait for new music

As a fellow artist who has navigated the intricate worlds of pop and classical music, Patrice Rushen’s journey deeply resonates with me. Her ability to fluidly move between genres and embrace her diverse talents is nothing short of inspiring. I remember when I discovered that my collaborator on “A Seat at the Table,” Dylan Wiggins, was a pupil of hers – it was like finding a hidden treasure!

In those five and a half years since my last album release, it’s fair to say that I’ve been quite occupied. My devoted fans might recall my 2019 work, “When I Get Home,” which not only made several critics’ favorites but also inspired a short film based in my hometown of Houston. So yes, while I may have taken some time with new music, it’s all been worth it to bring you the best I can offer.

Under the leadership of her own establishment, Saint Heron, which she initiated in 2013, Solange, aged 38, has staged performance art installations in museums and galleries globally; created a ballet soundtrack for New York City Ballet; and designed a collection of glassware intended to showcase the consciousness within everyday objects through the backdrop of Black household life. This year, Apple Music recognized Solange’s 2016 album, “A Seat at the Table,” as one of the top 100 albums ever produced.

The upcoming project is titled Eldorado Ballroom, which refers to a three-night event showcasing various musical performances slated to debut on Thursday at Walt Disney Concert Hall. This event is named after an old music hall significant in Houston’s Third Ward district, where Solange and her older sister Beyoncé, a popular pop star, spent their childhood years. Previously, a similar event took place at New York’s Brooklyn Academy of Music last year. The lineup for the Los Angeles series includes artists such as Patrice Rushen, Bilal, Moses Sumney, Dominique Johnson, J*Davey, and the Gospel Music Workshop of America’s Women of Worship choir.

On a recent morning, Solange phoned from her residence in the New York region following her visit to the Alvin Ailey showcase at the Whitney Museum.

It seems to me that you place great importance on the environment surrounding your creative endeavors, perhaps because of your nomadic lifestyle. Having traveled extensively, starting with tours at a young age for Destiny’s Child and living in six different American cities, I find myself focusing more on crafting tangible artifacts to maintain a sense of familiarity as my surroundings frequently change.

Recently, I chatted with a Paris-based DJ I admire, Crystallmess, about the thrill of observing local music experiencing a resurgence. In various musical genres, but particularly hip-hop, R&B, drill, club, house, and electronic music, we’re witnessing unique regional sounds emerging from distinct subcultures within those regions. I find this fascinating because it resonates with me as I incorporate elements of Houston and the South into my work.

Saint Heron, rather than focusing on individual stardom, thrives on collaboration. It allows me to achieve things that wouldn’t be possible alone. Constantly people ask: Is it an institution? An agency? An archive? I prefer to describe it as a dynamic and organic growth because it began as a music blog.

Back in 2012 when I unveiled my “True” EP, I was experiencing a profound sense of solitude. Being a Black artist in the indie music realm felt isolating at times. Yet, I knew deep down that there were numerous other Black artists out there, pushing boundaries with R&B and creating new waves within the genre.

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Five years ago, I found myself at a crossroads. We had accomplished many of our goals, and I began contemplating what needed to be preserved and safeguarded for future generations. In this era of Black renaissance in art, music, and culture, I saw my grandchildren still needing to visit predominantly white institutions to access the archive. This was a truly defining moment for me.

I visited the techno museum in Detroit, specifically Exhibit 3000 – a cozy, carefully curated spot. The collection there was incredibly intentional and thoughtful, making me realize that even small spaces can make a significant impact. When you consider the global influence of DJs like Jeff Mills and Juan Atkins, the size or grandeur of the museum doesn’t matter. The artifacts held an enduring quality and told a unique story that no one else could.

During my recent journey, I stopped by Chicago and had the opportunity to explore Theaster Gates’ Stony Island Arts Bank. There, I immersed myself in both his collection of Johnson Publishing materials and his ceramic artistry. This visit served as a further inspiration for the future development of Saint Heron – a vision centered around compiling an archive encompassing stories, films, performances, and other time-bound moments. Our goal is to preserve these treasures so that future generations can revisit significant works like Sampha’s song on a compilation or our interview with Barkley Hendricks about his musical preferences, or even experience the photographs of Barbara Chase-Riboud from her time in Egypt.

Like your sister, I too have a strong inclination towards preserving memories, but for me it’s rooted in the shared experience of Black families where photos from early childhood are often sparse due to circumstances such as frequent moves or storage issues. As a result, my recollections of childhood are pieced together from stories and memories rather than a tangible archive.

Another way to phrase this could be: A significant aspect of my thought process involves contemplating who I might have become, or conversely, who I wouldn’t have been, if I hadn’t had exposure to the images and narratives of Black women who have profoundly influenced me and inspired me to embrace myself authentically. For instance, I often wonder what it would mean for my identity if I only knew Nina Simone’s music but didn’t see any interviews or photos of her. Similarly, I ponder what it would feel like not to have seen Senga Nengudi’s art but never having the opportunity to witness her dance performances or learn about her experiences in Los Angeles under the bridge. These moments of introspection often revolve around my Blackness and femininity, and a large part of that self-understanding stems from the blueprints provided by these women’s stories, which have been preserved for us.

As a cinephile, I find myself continually pondering over the impact of my recent endeavors, stretching back from half a decade to seven years. My thoughts often gravitate towards the year 2050, contemplating how these actions will shape our world then.

In Los Angeles, you’ll be presenting “Not Necessarily in Arms Reach,” a composition I penned for two tubas. Why the tuba? The tuba holds a special place in my heart as it reminds me of Texas Southern University’s marching band, which I frequented due to my high-school sweetheart being a football player there. While waiting for halftime during his games, I would often find myself captivated by the deep, resonant sounds emanating from the tuba section. The energy and movement of the tuba players were particularly intriguing; they always seemed to be the most lively and expressive members of the band.

I really, really come alive with bass, and there was a gravity in the tuba that always made me feel very full. In my vocal range, I haven’t really explored the lower end of my voice. I generally write melodically from more of a falsetto place. So there are things I can’t achieve with my voice, and once I started writing music for tuba I was able to tap into the more guttural parts of my body and express a nuance that I couldn’t even with synth bass or electric bass or upright bass. During “A Seat at the Table,” I started exchanging bass for tuba.

When I write for tuba, I sing all of the melodic parts and I transcribe them maybe three or four octaves down. So I’m able to sit and live with that for a while and continue to expand and edit and harmonize and build. There’s also something about the synergy of two tuba players facing each other — sort of the natural sculpture that takes place with their bodies and with the instrument. It feels like a monument. It’ll be really interesting to see how that exists in a space like Disney Hall that already is a monument.

Have you found yourself captivated by the story of Patrice Rushen, who’s known for navigating the realms of pop music and classical music? Her journey strikes a chord with me too! Incidentally, I once collaborated with Raphael Saadiq’s nephew, a pianist named Dylan Wiggins, who studied at Berklee. Guess who his mentor was? None other than Patrice Rushen! That revelation left me speechless. For years, I’ve admired her music, not just the tunes but also her academic background, her elegance, and even her hairstyle. Everything about her just resonates with me.

Upon discovering Rushen’s “Sinfonia,” I became completely captivated and listened to it repeatedly, finding inspiration as I prepared to write my composition for New York City Ballet. It was reassuring to know that someone had previously occupied this space. What strikes me about her is her resilience in continuing to perform her pop songs, demonstrating her ability to encompass various aspects of herself.

What led to you teaming up Bilal with the group consisting of Cooper-Moore, William Parker and Michael Wimberly?
I had this idea to include Cooper-Moore in my program, given his unique handmade instruments and innovative sonic devices. I also wanted a vocalist. Over time, I pondered, “Who can hold their own with those musicians?” I’d been scribbling names down, and one day it struck me, It has to be Bilal. I had the pleasure of witnessing his remarkable use of voice as an instrument when we collaborated on a song, “Cosmic Journey,” for my second album. He produced various sounds with his voice, imitating horns, pianos, and basses. He’s also an improvisational artist. During that studio session, I watched him improvise on a melody in thirty different ways within an hour.

You recently reposted something on Instagram where someone pointed out that we got new music from Mozart before we got a new Solange album. How do you think about the growing demand for your next record?
I actually died laughing. My fan base, they just crack me the hell up. But people forget that “A Seat at the Table” took me five years to make. I feel like you have to live if you want to write from a potent place. And I only write when I have something to say. I only write when I feel like if I don’t write, then I’m moving backwards or I’m regressing in my own personal healing journey. So with both “A Seat at the Table” and “When I Get Home,” I had something to say. There was an urgency that I needed to write those songs or else those stories were going to become a poison in my body.

Do you understand what it’s like for André 3000 to follow his artistic instincts and release an experimental jazz album instead of a rap record, despite some fans’ disappointment last year? Absolutely, I can relate to the courage it takes to stay true to oneself, disregarding external pressures and expectations. It requires faith, bravery, and for many artists, it’s a matter of survival. I admire his decision wholeheartedly.

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2024-10-09 23:01