Spiritual Ascension – Miguel in Indianapolis


“Unified meditation” is the phrase Miguel used to describe his August 28th gig at Old National Centre. Whether he was singing about sex or drugs, Miguel made it clear that he finds an element of the spiritual in all aspects of life.

Ascension is the name of Miguel’s current tour, and a recurring theme throughout his show. A tall white staircase dominates the spare set, as psychedelic imagery dances across the enormous monitor which serves as a stage backdrop. Over the course of the night Miguel repeatedly nudged fans to let go of the conventions of the material world, and reach toward a higher spiritual plane.

Miguel is in the midst of a very public spiritual and political awakening. He’s credited Bernie Sanders’ failed presidential campaign as a starting point for this transformation. But he was careful to avoid partisan sloganeering onstage, and issued no direct political statements during his nearly two hour performance.

Instead Miguel focused on the themes of love and romance that propelled him to fame in 2012. Miguel wears his biggest influence on his sleeve, and echoes of Marvin Gaye’s raw sensuality reverberate through his live performances and recorded work. Within the framework of the Ascension show, Miguel subtly positions his celebration of love as an act of resistance within the increasingly corrosive social environment of the United States.

In reality, Miguel doesn’t need to act overtly to express his political position. His existence itself has been politicized by the dangerous racist rhetoric of America’s rogue president. Miguel’s ethnic identity represents two of Trump’s most frequent targets: Blacks and Mexicans. Miguel commented on his background during an introduction to his 2015 song “Waves”.

“My father is Mexican. He is from Zamora, Michoacán in Mexico. My mother is a beautiful Black woman from Inglewood, California. In the ’90s when I was growing up in Los Angeles, California there was a lot of racial tension between Blacks and Latinos.”

As Miguel continued he tied his personal struggle with identity into the anthemic singalong chorus of “Waves”.

“You probably wouldn’t expect this, but one thing I had to do was fight my way through the streets of my city. Can you imagine little Miguel trying to fight some motherfuckers? In this lifetime, in this dimension, in whatever it is that we’re experiencing right now, the most important thing we can do is ride our own fucking wave. I mean regardless of whatever people say, you gotta be who you are unapologetically. Love what you love, and do that shit hard. Fulfill your purpose.”

Miguel has spoken frequently about the skills he adopted in navigating both the Black and Latino spaces of his childhood. That cross-cultural fluidity is evident in his music. Miguel favors heavier musical textures in the live setting, pairing his classic R&B crooning with abrasive metal guitar riffs. It’s an odd combination, but Miguel pulls it off. That’s no doubt due to his appreciation for a wide span of music. If you dig deep enough online, you’ll find videos of Miguel performing a surprising range of music, from Trio Los Panchos to Pussy Riot.

While the majority of Miguel’s Naptown performance leaned toward more bombastic sounds, the concert climaxed with a whisper, not a bang. Near the end of his set Miguel performed an impassioned barebones version of “Now”, the closing song off his 2017 LP War & Leisure. Miguel introduced the song to his Indianapolis fans with the following statement.

“As this reality is playing out, the truth is, I think there’s nothing more important than empathy. We need to really put ourselves in someone else’s shoes, and show each other love. We’re at such a critical time in our history. We can elevate the human race, and elevate our consciousness. Or we can completely wipe ourselves from the face of the Earth. There’s no better time than right now to shed light on the issues that are important.”

“Now” represents the culmination of Miguel’s spiritual and political transformation. The song’s lyrics reference a variety of issues, from the contaminated water supply in Flint, Michigan, to Trump’s proposed border wall. During the chorus Miguel asks listeners to act on these issues now, “Not later, no, no, no, not later. Right now.” It’s not a rallying cry, but an anguished plea.

In November of 2017 Miguel released a video for “Now” that addresses both the criminal persecution of undocumented immigrants in the United States, and the urgent need for prison reform. Miguel has slowly stepped forward as an important voice on these issues.

But the dream of political and spiritual ascension Miguel advocated for in Indianapolis won’t happen without serious effort from us all. And there are lots of battles to be fought here on the home-front. If you haven’t committed to voting in this year’s upcoming midterm election, that would be a good first step in moving forward. Head to indianavoters.in.gov to register online.


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Carnaval 2018 – Saturday Feb. 10th at Jazz Kitchen

Carnaval Brazil – Indy’s BIGGEST and BEST Carnaval party! Sat. Feb. 10 


Premiere Brazilian Carnaval party in Indianapolis, Saturday, February 10th from 10pm to 3am at the Jazz Kitchen, 5377 N. College Ave. Indianapolis, IN 46220.

One of the most celebrated parties in the world, Brazil’s Carnaval is known for its grand scale, intense samba beat and the visual feast of colors, costumes, floats and dancers. This event will offer Indianapolis an opportunity to taste this Brazilian tradition.

Cultural Cannibals’ Brazilian Carnaval has developed a reputation as the largest Carnaval celebration in Indiana. The 2018 Carnaval celebration will feature:

* Brazilian Samba band – Os Hoosierinhos
* Samba dancers
* DJ Kyle Long playing a mix of Carnaval music from Brazil
* Carnaval visuals by Artur Silva
* Special menu with Brazilian food – Feijoada and appetizers
* Brazilian beers, juices and soft drinks
* Caipirinha (the national drink of Brazil)
* Big screen displaying the Carnaval parade in Rio de Janeiro

Advance tickets $15
$20 at the door

For more information please contact 317-332-5612 culturalcannibals@gmail.com, www.CulturalCannibals.org

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Carnaval 2017 – Saturday Feb. 25th at Jazz Kitchen

Premiere Brazilian Carnaval party in Indianapolis, Saturday, February 25th from 10pm to 3am at the Jazz Kitchen, 5377 N. College Ave. Indianapolis, IN 46220. Advance discount tickets available at: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/2799768

Be sure to check-in with our event sponor Yelp! to receive a free bottle of water at the bar!

One of the most celebrated parties in the world, Brazil’s Carnaval is known for its grand scale, intense samba beat and the visual feast of colors, costumes, floats and dancers. This event will offer Indianapolis an opportunity to taste this Brazilian tradition.

Cultural Cannibals’ Brazilian Carnaval has developed a reputation as the largest Carnaval celebration in Indiana. The 2017 Carnaval celebration will feature:

* Brazilian Samba band- The IU Brazilian Ensemble
* Samba dancers
* DJ Kyle Long playing a mix of Carnaval music from Brazil
* Carnaval visuals by Artur Silva
* Special menu with Brazilian food – Feijoada and appetizers
* Brazilian beers, juices and soft drinks
* Caipirinha (the national drink of Brazil) $5
* Big screen displaying the Carnaval parade in Rio de Janeiro

Thanks to our event sponsor Yelp! Make sure you remember to check-in on the Yelp App to receive a free bottle of water at the bar.

Advance tickets $15
$20 at the door


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Help us secure a headstone for Guitar Pete Franklin

My name is Kyle Long, I’m the host of Cultural Manifesto radio on 90.1 WFYI, and author of the Cultural Manifesto column in NUVO Newsweekly. In June of 2016 I wrote a piece for NUVO lamenting the fact that the Indianapolis blues great Guitar Pete Franklin did not have a headstone marking his grave at Crown Hill cemetery. After this article was published in NUVO I was contacted by a representative from Crown Hill. We decided to work together to solve this problem, aided by the blessings of Guitar Pete’s nephew Lester Johnson.

Below you’ll find my original NUVO column titled “Guitar Pete’s Grave”, if you’re unfamiliar with Guitar Pete’s work, I invite you to have a look.

For $400 we will be able to provide a modest headstone for Guitar Pete, any funds received beyond this goal will allow us to upgrade the quality of the marker. Please consider helping us honor this legendary Indianapolis musician. Donations can be made at this link: 



Last summer I spent a large amount of my free time traveling across the city visiting the grave sites of important Indianapolis jazz and blues musicians. Sadly, for many of our city’s esteemed music greats a small stone grave marker is the only physical evidence of their existence in Indianapolis.

I spent one particular summer afternoon scouring Section 99 of Crown Hill cemetery in a search for the grave of the legendary Indianapolis blues player Guitar Pete Franklin. I must’ve spent a couple hours zig-zagging through the area reading and rereading every headstone multiple times before finally giving up.

A few weeks ago I renewed my search for Guitar Pete Franklin’s grave, but this time I decided to employ a more strategic method. So I called up the Crown Hill switchboard for guidance.

“Hi, I’m looking for information on where the grave of Edward Lamonte Franklin is located,” I said. “If it helps, he was born on January 16 of 1928 and he passed on July 31 of 1975. And, oh yeah, he might be listed under the name Guitar Pete. He recorded some really important records under that name.”

I waited eagerly for the operator’s response while I listened to her fingers hammering the information into a keyboard. “Section 99. Lot 4728,” she replied. It was the same information I’d found online last summer. I explained to her I’d previously spent several hours searching that area to no avail. After another audible flurry of keystrokes she returned with a definitive answer to my mystery:

“No grave marker.”

It struck me as totally unacceptable that an artist like Franklin with such a remarkable legacy would be allowed to remain in an unmarked grave for 40-plus years. But in Indianapolis that sort of neglect and disrespect for musicians, particularly Black musicians, is not abnormal.

Guitar Pete Franklin was not your average local musician. In a career that stretched through four decades, Guitar Pete recorded on some of the biggest labels in music, alongside some of the greatest names in the blues genre.

In contrast to fellow Hoosier blues legends like Yank Rachell, Scrapper Blackwell, and Leroy Carr – who all migrated here from the South, Franklin was born and raised in Indianapolis. Franklin’s exposure to blues music came at an early age when pianist Leroy Carr was a boarder at Franklin’s childhood home just prior to his untimely death in 1935. Franklin acquired significant skills on the family piano before taking up the guitar at age 11.

As a young man Franklin learned what would become his primary instrument from Indy blues guitar master Scrapper Blackwell. Franklin’s passion for music was so deep, he dropped out Crispus Attucks to devote himself full time to playing. But his aspirations for blues stardom were briefly put on hold during a two-year stint with the army from 1945-1947.

Franklin’s recording career began in Chicago on a fantastic session for the Opera Records label with St. Louis Jimmy and Roosevelt Sykes. Franklin’s own debut as a leader came in 1949 on RCA Records. Joined by Tampa Red on piano, Franklin recorded four tunes for RCA on January 26 of 1949: “Casey Brown Blues,” “Down Behind The Rise,” “Mr. Charley,” and “Naptown Blues,” which remains unissued to this day.

Over the next few years Franklin would record a series of classic discs as a sideman for blues greats like Jazz Gillum, Sunnlyland Slim and John Brim. But Franklin wouldn’t see another solo release until 1962 when the Indy-based folklorist Art Rosenbaum tracked Franklin down to cut an LP for  jazz label Prestige Records’ Bluesville imprint.

The resulting work, Guitar Pete’s Blues was recorded in Indianapolis on July 12 of 1961. The album is widely considered a blues classic and stands as the most enduring example of Franklin’s unique artistry.

While Franklin shines as a guitarist, pianist and vocalist on the LP, it’s his interpretation of the material, with themes ranging from depression, to drug abuse, to violence that remains the most compelling element of the work for me.

Guitar Pete’s Blues is the only solo LP release in Franklin’s discography. While Franklin was presented with other chances to record and perform in the aftermath of Guitar Pete’s Blues he was unable to parlay those opportunities into any meaningful advancement for his career. Franklin remained in Indianapolis until his hard-living ways contributed to his early death from diabetes at age 47.

“The public should recognize the blues as an art, instead of looking down at it as something that comes out of the slums or the cotton fields,” Franklin lamented in an interview for the liner notes of Guitar Pete’s Blues.

While Franklin’s artistry has been recognized by music fans around the world, his work is largely unknown here in Indianapolis where his eternal resting place lacks even the most simple marker noting evidence of his existence. It’s a tragic ending that should give any music fan the blues.

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Highlife at The HI-FI – 11/26 w/ ESSO Afrojam Funkbeat

Join us Saturday, November 26 at The HI-FI for what will likely be the most epic night of Afro-Latin funk music in Indianapolis history! Chicago’s awesome ¡ESSO! Afrojam Funkbeat will join Sweet Poison Victim and DJ Kyle Long for a special edition of Highlife at The Hi-Fi. Admission is FREE, and doors open at 9pm.

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Red Baraat at Jazz Kitchen 09/11/16


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Eddie Palmieri on Harlem River Drive, Bob Marley, Santeria, social justice & more


[NOTE: My interview with Eddie Palmieri originally appeared in the September 11, 2013 edition of NUVO Newsweekly – Kyle Long]

Summarizing Eddie Palmieri’s career in the space of one column is about as easy as attempting to eat an entire watermelon in a single bite. So I’ll provide a brief  introduction and jump straight my recent conversation with the music legend.

Palmieri’s daring harmonic experiments on the piano have established his reputation as one of the greatest soloists in the history of Latin jazz. In addition to his  dazzling virtuosity, Palmieri is also an extraordinary musical innovator. His early work with La Perfecta laid the foundation for salsa music while his album Harlem River Drive essentially invented the genre of Latin funk.

At 76 years old Palmieri is the most quick-witted and entertaining musician I’ve ever interviewed. Cracking jokes and reciting arcane historical facts at every turn. It seems the maestro is still on top of his game, a good indication that his upcoming performance at Jazz Fest should not be missed.

Kyle Long: It’s an honor to speak to you. How are you and what are you working on currently?

Eddie Palmieri: I’m better than ever! It’s a beautiful day in New York. I was in Europe earlier this year. We started the tour in Paris, France with our big band. Then we took the Latin jazz septet to Germany, Spain, Switzerland and even went as far as Serbia. It was an incredible tour and I’ll be bringing my Latin jazz septet to Indianapolis for Jazz Fest.

Right now I’m now preparing for a big concert here in New York at Lehman College. I’m putting together a whole new presentation utilizing the batá drums. The batá drum is the most primitive of all African drums and it’s the source of all those rhythmic patterns that have excited the world.

Long: You used the batá drum on your 1979 album Lucumí, Macumba, Voodoo which combined funk and disco with Afro-Latin percussion to tell a story about Santería and other forms of African religion in the Americas.

Palmieri: It didn’t have so much to do with the religion. I know a little about that. Naturally I’ve researched it and I think pretty soon I’ll be able turn my critics into hamsters with all the voodoo I learned in Santería [laughs].

Seriously that album was all about the drum and the rhythmical patterns that the batá players used for all the deities like Shango or Yemanja. This was all done in camouflage. When they brought the captive Africans into Cuba, they used the Catholic religion to camouflage their traditional beliefs. For instance they disguised Shango as Santa Barbara. They came up with incredible rhythmic patterns for all those deities to tell their stories.

Those Santería music patterns eventually evolved into dance music in the ’20s and ’30s and the Santería groups eventually became orchestras. The greatest dance bands the world has ever known in our genre came out of Cuba. Then Cuba influenced the United States through New York in the ’40s and ’50s. Artists like Machito, the master Tito Puente and the two great singers Tito Rodríguez and Vicentico Valdés.

I played with Vicentico Valdés and Tito Rodríguez. I made a record with Tito Rodríguez in 1959 called Live at the Palladium. It was a tremendous album. It was danceable, but it was also Latin jazz.

Long: How long did you work with Tito Rodríguez?

Palmieri: I worked with Tito for two years. At that time he was trying to be like Desi Arnaz from I Love Lucy. He had his wife, who was Japanese, singing with him in a kimono. We went out to Vegas for a month, but that didn’t work out. Then we went to California. He had prepared a show but it didn’t turn out favorably for him. After I left in 1960 I formed my band La Perfecta and in 1962 he formed one of the greatest orchestras ever put together in New York City with Victor Paz on trumpet and Cachao on bass – an incredible orchestra.

Long: Your band La Perfecta changed Latin music with its heavy trombone sound. Music historians also credit La Perfecta with laying the foundation for what would later become known as salsa music.

Palmieri: First, I must say the term salsa is a misnomer. The best quote on that comes from Tito Puente. He said “salsa is what I put on my spaghetti baby.” The reason I point that out is because these rhythmical patterns have their proper names. They all come from the mother rhumba. There was a lot of judgment placed on that word rhumba, it became synonymous with lower class people and women of the night. Yet this is the music that set the world dancing. Through their suffering they brought happiness to the world, which is quite extraordinary.

With La Perfecta we changed the whole structure of an orchestra. We put the trombones up front. Barry Rogers and José Rodríguez were geniuses on the trombone. We were known as the orchestra with the roaring elephants. La Perfecta blew everyone else off the bandstand.  We were the most exciting orchestra to listen to and to dance to.

Long: How did it feel seeing so many other artists like Willie Colón copying your sound?

Palmieri: When we became popular it emptied out all the trombones from all the pawn shops in New York [laughs]. Everybody wanted to play trombone after they saw the success of La Perfecta. But it was never equaled and it never will be in my opinion.

Long: I have to ask about your 1971 album Harlem River Drive. I consider it one the best soul/funk albums ever made, but it was a big departure from the Latin sound you were famous for.

Palmieri: It started with the lyrics written by Calvin Cash, who was a friend of mine. I’d been wanting to record a crossover album and Ronnie Cuber who was working in Aretha Franklin’s band connected me with all these R&B musicians like Cornell Dupree and Bernard Purdie.

The album came out on the Roulette label. I was signed to a subsidiary of Roulette called Tico Records, but I asked the label owner Morris Levy to release the album on Roulette. Roulette had put out a lot of hits by artists like Tommy James and the Shondells.

I wanted to crossover, but it turned out the album’s biggest fans were the Weathermen [laughs]. You know the political group who were rebelling against the government? They embraced it when they heard the lyrics on numbers  like “Idle Hands,” which are still relevant now and will be forever. The next thing we know the FBI and CIA are knocking on Morris Levy’s door asking about the album. Morris called me and said  “Mr. Palmieri, don’t record that shit anymore.”

That was the second time I attracted the attention of the FBI. The first time was for my album Mambo Con Conga Is Mozambique. It was about the first Cubans coming over to the U.S. and I was accused of being a communist [laughs].

Long: Did you have any idea Harlem River Drive would be so influential? I’ve read that War was very influenced by that album and it certainly set a direction for Latin Funk in general.

Palmieri: I had a feeling when we were recording it. At the time I was taking  classes in political economy, which is a theory based on the studies of Henry George who ran for mayor of New York in the 1800s. He wrote a great book called Progress and Poverty. When Calvin Clash came to me with his lyrics, I knew it was quite complimentary to these studies – I was learning about this life and Calvin had lived it.

We were asking “why is there immense poverty next to immense wealth?” Poverty keeps getting worse, not only in the United Stated but all over the world. “Idle Hands” talks about the super rich who are in control. There’s a great quote by Oliver Goldsmith. He said “law grinds the poor, and rich men rule the law.” “Idle Hands” tells the story of how this happens and it’s a hell of a statement. It became quite clear to us that we had something special.

Long: You went on to record two amazing live albums at Sing Sing Prison with the Harlem River Drive band. How did that come about and do you have any particular stand-out memories of that experience?

Palmieri: Well Calvin Clash was locked up in Sing Sing at the time. So we would go there to visit him. I remember before we started playing that show the A&R man from Tico Joe Cain, who was an Italian guy, came up to me and said “Eddie, eighty percent of the audience out there are black.” I said “Joe, open the curtain,” and we blew the place apart.

I played a lot of prisons in those years. I played Lewisburg when they brought in the people from Watergate. I played women’s prisons. I played a prison in Colombia in South America. When I played Rikers Island they had a musical director at the prison. This guy was a friend of Dizzy Gillespie’s and when I played Rikers, Dizzy came along as my master of ceremonies. When we came onto stage Dizzy says, “before I bring on my Latin soul brother Eddie Palmieri, I want to ask him a question. Eddie, have you ever played for such a captive audience?” He brought the place down [laughs].

Long: A few years after that you played a legendary concert at Harvard with Bob Marley to raise awareness about South African apartheid.

Palmieri: Yes and I think they might have legalized herb in the stadium that day [laughs]. We had a high time there to put it blunt-ly and Bob Marley was amazing.

Long: You’ve seen Latin music go through many changes during your career. What do you think of the current state of Latin music?

Palmieri: It’s in an abysmal state. There is no Latin music anymore, you only  have Latin pop. What they call salsa is a disaster. They took away the excitement of the dance orchestra. I suggest if you go out dancing with your partner today, bring pillows because they’ll put you to sleep on the dance-floor. You’ll be bored to death.

They took away the tension and resistance, which is what gives you the excitement. Sex and danger are the exciters – the reaction of the human being is love and fear. All of these things should be inside the arrangements. You need a high degree of orgasm in the music. You need a high musical climax to create energy. It builds the momentum when the piano player takes a solo and passes it to the conga, bongo and timbales. That doesn’t exist anymore. There are no more solos, except maybe a young guy singing who makes you want to pull the plug on the whole band.

Long: Musicians from your generation were passionate about educating audiences on the African roots of the music and exploring social justice themes. What changed?

Palmieri: Everything changes, that’s why we have the four different seasons.
The youth went to hip-hop. There are no more bongo or conga solos. The rhythm might as well be on loop. It’s the same rhythmic patterns in every song. They don’t get out of the box, lets put it that way. They’re in that box, and they’re gonna stay in that box until the last nail goes into that salsa coffin.

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