R.I.P. Art Lewis - 1/31/2012

We will "remember you, esse"

Art Lewis playing his horn - (photo by Cesar Ivan)

     Art Lewis passed away today, an El Paso icon and legend. The line, we wll remember you, esse is borrowed from another legend in his own right, poet raulrsalinas, and his poem "Bass in Yo Face" of which Art once played along with as part of the composition. I wanted to dedicate some time to reflect on Art and his legacy. 
     I remember growing up wanting to learn the saxophone, so, I started to take lessons from a college sax player. I remember early on, he asked me who my influences were and I was nonplussed - nobody had every made me consider such a thing. Without an answer he challenged me to walk into a music store and casually start listening to more artists and music. 
     Walking into the CD store, I decided to browse through the jazz section to see what I could find. I don't remember how, I ended up there but I ended up picking out one of Art's CD's in the local music section. "El Paso Art." I was definitely in love with the music. That was a great album; mixing blues with a taste of latin jazz. He easily became one of my personal influences. 
     Unfortunately, I never had the chance to know him personally. Now that I'm a little bit familiar (and even part of) the El Paso culture scene, thankfully I do know others who have had the pleasure of knowning him and experiencing his own Art. During the process of writing this blog, I wanted to see what some of El Paso's writer's thought about Art. I came across several different accounts and stories, but my favorite was easily a story related by El Paso poet, Bobby Bird, about a conversation he once had with Art: 

      Every day Art Lewis stepped into the river of his life and prayed into his   
     saxophone. He prayed jazz. Improvisation was his devout way of life. His 
     sacred horn was always blowing away the stifling air of fundamentalism. As 
     far as Art was concerned, right and wrong, innocence and guilt--they were 
     all notes in the same piece of music. Playing the sax was Art Lewis’ religious 
     practice, and he had become a wise teacherman by following the path the 
     saxophone had shown him.

      “Music,” he announced, “holds many of the answers to the riddles about life 
     and death.” 

     “Why doesn’t it hold all the answers?” I asked.

      Art got that big wide smile on his face and said, “Because we don’t know all
     the questions.” He played a riff and added. “Besides, there aint no answers
     in the boogie-woogie. No answers anywhere in the be-bop. The jingle
     jangle is so empty of answers you’d go hungry if you got lost inside. The
     only answer we got is just us doing what we are doing. Like the dogs and
     the fishes. Like the homeless blowing down San Antonio Street like
     afternoon trash. That’s why I play my horn. I’m doing what I’m supposed to
     be doing.”  (excerpt from Byrd's Blog)

     I quickly became a fan of this story, of the "wise teacherman" who followed "the path the saxophone had shown him." Knowing other stories from other musicians who played and collarborated with him, poets who were lucky enough to have their poetry sizzle with the serenade of sweet syrupy saxophone, and just others in general who appreciated El Paso culture and Art for the deep richness that it can be, I simply knew that Art was an amazing individual worthy of remembering.
     Tonight, I plan on playing out a couple of notes into the brisk city night in his honor - gracias por todo, jazzman! 


- Rich