(bright music) (upbeat music) - Hello everyone, and welcome to "Black Nouveau."

I'm Earl Arms.

June is Black Music Month, and on this edition, we'll meet Milwaukeeans actively engaged in different kinds of music.

We'll talk with Abdul Hamid Royal, who's been music director for some of the biggest musicals on national and local stages around the world.

We'll meet Sonora Slocum, the principal flutist for the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra.

Kwabena Antoine Nixon will have a tribute to the late great Harry Belafonte.

And I'll tell you about our plans for Juneteenth, and how you can participate in our coverage of Milwaukee's 52nd celebration.

But we begin with a profile of an artist whose unique style blends hip hop, soul, electronic, and jazz.

Alexandria Mack introduces us to Klassik.

(upbeat music) (vocalizing) (lo-fi synth music) ♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh ♪ - My name is Kellen "Klassik" Abston, and the type of music I do falls predominantly under the umbrella of hip hop.

But if I were to get more specific, as I did this morning in a tweet, I would call it electro soul, electro symphonic rap and soul.

(gentle vocal music) The electro part comes from obviously my setup and my rig.

I often liken it to at the end of "The Wizard of Oz" when they get to it and they pull back the curtain, and it's the dude with all like the levers and like making the thing smoke.

And that's what my setup has become.

So it's very much so electronic, computer-based, but the music that I make isn't necessarily EDM or dance or things that are more traditionally thought of in the electronic sense.

So the soul aspect is all of the soul and R&B music that I grew up with.

Obviously, rap is at the core.

My primary method of delivery, lyrically, is through rap.

And then underneath all of that is jazz.

I mean, I'm a jazz artist first and foremost.

♪ But for now I'm alive, ♪ ♪ I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive ♪ I picked the name because I wanted to make art, make music, with the intention of it bucking any kind of trend, without it ever being controlled by what is popular at the moment, or being confined by that.

I started with the alto saxophone when I was in fourth grade.

So I was like 9 or 10, I believe, when I started, you know, school music program.

By fifth grade, I was studying with Berkeley Fudge at the Conservatory.

So famously Adekola Adedapo, who's a pretty well known jazz singer in the city, also just like an amazing artist with this legacy.

She was also a paraprofessional at my elementary school.

So she famously heard me in the hallway playing the saxophone.

She thought it was one of her like jazz homies.

She turned the corner, it was like this little kid with a saxophone that was as big as him.

And so she took me to meet Berkeley.

I immediately started taking lessons with him.

I studied with Berkeley at the Conservatory all through middle school and high school.

A friend gave me some beat making software in seventh grade, and that kind of started the trajectory, I guess, for the artist that I am now.

♪ Can't stand it, they damn it ♪ ♪ They don't understand it ♪ ♪ I bank on my hand ♪ ♪ If you pass it to Klass ♪ ♪ Then I'm NBA Jammin' ♪ ♪ They're flashing the cameras ♪ ♪ It's nothing that's new to me, dog ♪ Just the freedom to not be in a particular box.

And we see so much of it now.

I mean, the idea even of genre itself is just becoming as we just progress, it's just so much more malleable and like, it's just a natural progression of things.

And I think the beauty of that is that there is freedom.

Sometimes my music can be, I wouldn't say dark, but there's like a haunting quality, because I think that where I create from is from like a space that has seen darkness, and is trying to turn that into light.

And I think that that process is a haunting process.

It's an unnerving process.

So I think that Kellen the person is an extremely vulnerable and honest person.

And Kellen and Klassik are no different.

There is no persona.

I often say that when I'm on stage, and when I get to just do the art thing, and really just let the thing out is when I feel most free.

So what I want people to feel and what I put into my music is a sense of urgency and a sense of passion.

Encouraging and inspiring people to be more proactive in their lives, to be more aware and compassionate to not only the people around them in the community, but also to themselves.

♪ Whoa, looking like a model with the changed clothes ♪ - So with the song Invisible Man, for me personally, it's like a very black, the blackest thing that I've written, because it's the most vulnerable, kind of, the hook itself is the most vulnerable representation of my experiences of being in predominantly white spaces most of my life, from college to just living here, and then being an artist, on top of that.

There have just been some very pivotal moments and some really tough times in my life.

And when I think on a lot of the toughest times, they are often centered around the feeling of not being seen or not being heard or not being understood.

♪ I ain't met nobody ♪ ♪ That I thought could really see me yet, yeah ♪ ♪ Invisible man ♪ And so at the end of the hook, I say that, you know, okay, so I've screened and I've shouted, so, invisible man, I guess I fall to this invisible death.

And the irony of like, you know, in a lot of these deaths that we've seen is when these people become visible.

So there's just some heaviness to that, but the line following is, but for now, I'm alive.

I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive.

♪ Invisible man, fall to this invisible death ♪ ♪ But for now I'm alive ♪ ♪ I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive ♪ ♪ I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive ♪ ♪ I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive ♪ There's like a small element of immortality, but for the right reasons of like, if this feeling that I'm putting into this music can last forever, and continue to provide other people with a jumping point or an inspiration point for a new thought, a new way of being, a new way of looking at things, I could be so lucky.

Whoo.

(laughing) (upbeat music) - [Presenter] And the Ovation Award goes to Abdul Hamid Royal, (crowd cheering) "The Gospel at Colonus."

(jazz music) - No kidding.

- [Narrator] Abdul Hamid Robinson Royal was born Reginald Royal in a middle class family, whose home was full of music.

His parents were very musical, though neither pursued that professionally.

He started early.

(gospel piano music) - I started plunking on the piano maybe around four or five.

And in my house, if you showed any kind of interest, it was immediately supported.

So they took me to the conservatory, where I was introduced to Toba Kramer, my first piano teacher, many auditioned for a kid to see if it was just, you know, their parents pushing them.

And that set the course for the rest of my life.

I always knew that not only was I gonna do music, but music was a part of who I was.

There was no kind of separation between the doing of music and the being of the music.

- [Narrator] The native Milwaukeean says that growing up in the city was a great place for him.

- The arts were very, very strong.

And I was an artistic kid.

So there was the Milwaukee Symphony, the Milwaukee Ballet, the Music for Youth Symphony Orchestra, the Florentine Opera Company, tons of gospel choirs, community choirs, lots of theater.

It was a great place for me to grow up.

- [Interviewer] Was Milwaukee very segregated then?

- Yes.

I mean, it was, as it is now, incredibly segregated.

But because I moved through those worlds, I experienced it, I think, in a different way than a lot of people.

- [Interviewer] How so?

Well, I was born in a black church.

By definition, a black church was predominantly black American, or some people call African-American.

So I had a very, very strong spiritual grounding from people who had lots of life experience and spiritual experience in the black or African-American tradition.

I went to predominantly white schools.

I moved in predominantly white circles with my music.

The conservatory, the Music for Youth Symphony Orchestra, high school Band.

Those were predominantly non-African American, or non-black American environments.

And so I spent, you know, much of the week in non-black environments.

And then on the weekends, of course, you know, we would go to church, and that was a sacred space that honored, you know, sort of the black tradition.

- [Narrator] He graduated from Whitefish Bay High School and went to Oral Roberts University, but he returned to Milwaukee to get his bachelor's degree at the Wisconsin Conservatory of Music.

- It was an incredibly supportive place.

There was a healthy competition, because everybody was really, really working on their craft, whether it was in the classical area or the jazz ensemble.

- [Narrator] He got his bachelor's from the conservatory, and went to Northwestern University to get a graduate degree in conducting.

- I left grad school and moved to New York, and was playing an audition for someone, and they didn't get the job.

And the guy who was directing it at the time was a guy named George Faison.

- [Narrator] Faison hired him to work on his homage to the Apollo Theater, "The Apollo - Just Like Magic."

The experience made a lasting impression.

- Timothy Gran Reed, who was the musical director who I was assisting, turned over the vocal arrangements to me and said, do these arrangements, and whatever I could come up with, the singers could do.

I watched George choreograph, whatever he choreographed, the dancers could do.

I watched these costume designers, all of it, and thought, oh my God, if this is what New York is, if this is what this is about, I'm in.

But my first Broadway show was a show called "Truly Blessed," written by a woman named Queen Esther Marrow.

And I did music, additional music, and arrangements for that.

And then, you know, my career just kind of took off after that.

I was mentored by incredible people in New York, Linda Twine, who did "The Lady and her Music" with Lena Horne, and many, many other shows, kind of took me under her wing, and a gentleman named Buryl Red.

Between the two of them, we used to call him Daddy Buryl, Buryl Red and Linda Twine, along with George, really steered my New York career.

- [Narrator] He became the musical director for a number of shows on Broadway, including "Five Guys Named Moe."

♪ I'm crazy 'bout the woman ♪ ♪ Cal'donia is her name ♪ (crowd cheering) - [Narrator] And he's toured nationally and internationally.

- While I was in New York, I took "Sophisticated Ladies" to Europe.

I did "Jelly's Last Jam," took that on its first national, "Smokey Joe's Cafe," its first national.

And I enjoyed that because what it allowed me to do was, I learned the shows in New York, had an opportunity to really sort of dig myself into the material in the city.

And then I love traveling.

I got a chance to see all my friends around the country, and around the world, on somebody else's dime.

- [Narrator] His travels and experiences brought about a religious conversion.

- Something happened, I encountered a body of literature that began to sort of expand the ways that I began thinking about God, and who I was, and all that.

And that was Islam.

There was no crisis of faith.

There was no fight, there was no I'm angry, there was no resentment, there was no anything.

There was an expansion.

And so I called it an embrace.

I embraced Islam.

And Islam embraced me.

And it was tough for a lot of people, because I was a clergy person.

So what do you do?

You know, you don't believe this anymore?

It's like, no, I believe this, and I believe this.

And so, it was a triumphant moment for me, because as I often say, I didn't come to Islam because I was broken.

I came to Islam because I was fixed.

♪ I've seen so many faces leave life's stage ♪ ♪ Go away ♪ - [Narrator] Abdul wrote and performed this song for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS benefit concert.

It's among his favorite compositions.

More recently, he's been home as the musical director for two productions with the Milwaukee Rep, "Sirens of Song," and "Lady Day at Emerson's Bar and Grill."

- I love what I do, and gratitude is an action.

So the way that I show God that I'm grateful for what it is that I've been given is to do it, and to do it with the passion, clarity, to the best of my willingness and ability, and to keep trying to perfect my craft.

(upbeat music) (gentle flute music) - My playing style is based on sound.

It's all about sound that was kind of given to me when I was born.

My father played Sonor drums, and my mom took that and made it my name.

My name is Sonora Slocum, and I am Principal Flute of Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra.

(gentle flute music) I grew up in New York City.

I was raised by a very musical family.

My parents are professional musicians, and my grandparents are professional musicians, jazz and classical.

So I had a lot of influence, and I had a lot of choice in which direction to go.

I fell in love with the flute, but it was more a calling.

Once I tried it, I was just hooked.

I felt like I actually had a good sound on the flute, and I wanted that to be kind of what defined me.

(classical chamber music) The way I've been able to make space for myself in classical music is just by being me, and unapologetically myself, and no matter what environment I'm in, that's been a challenge.

Well, it's really hard to get a job, period.

Doesn't really matter who you are, it's one of the hardest things you can do.

It's a huge triumph if you're able to achieve it.

And that's why it's important once you've actually won a job, to stay in that place of gratitude, and remember how hard it was to get there in the first place.

Because there are just very few jobs, and lots of musicians, especially for flute.

Getting this job was one of the biggest moments of my life.

I still remember the day, I remember everything that happened, and I was lucky to have a committee and a music director who were able to receive me fully, were able to hear my talent, and weren't going by the way I look.

I am under no illusions about what I represent being now the only black person in the orchestra, for them to come in and see me in the center of the orchestra.

(elegant woodwind music) These initiatives, you know, to diversify all of these institutions are, I mean, they're needed.

We need to have that commitment, and we need to have the difficult conversations.

And so myself and the MSO, I have been the voice to kind of offer the perspective that is needed here.

And I would encourage anybody else in their institutions to do that as well, because it's really hard for people to understand your experience if they don't experience it.

(dramatic orchestral music) People should come to see the MSO, because the MSO rocks.

Okay, we're really good.

And we have been good.

And I feel like maybe some of the other orchestras have been sleeping on us.

Like, we're really next level.

(classical chamber music) - There's a lot of exciting new composers, new repertoire, new sounds, and also the classics, 'cause we know our audience loves the classics, and we do too.

And so it's gonna be a mixture of both of those things.

With the opening of the new hall and the release of my album in the fall, it's all kind of coming full circle.

I'm finishing my editing now, and actually right after this interview I'm gonna have my photo shoot for my album cover.

- [Photographer] We're gonna have you on the second stair, and then close to the right hand rail.

- For me, it's a really exciting re-entry time.

And, I'm grateful that the MSO is collaborating with me on this release, because, you know, mutually beneficial relationships are what this industry needs to be.

My goal has always been to bring in more audience members of color, more queer audience members.

And when I see, I sometimes scan the audience and when I see, you know, a few black and brown people peppered through, or some gay couples on a date, I get really excited, and I play for them.

This is Milwaukee's home.

(lively flute music) It's for everyone.

And we're really trying to emphasize that with everything that we do, with our programming, with our hirings.

And we want to bring the city together through music, which is the unifying force in this world.

(upbeat music) - First, let me state for the record, I am merely a black boy from the west side of Chi, the Garfield Park area, a throwaway neighborhood as they call it, four blocks from where the fires burned after King was killed.

A train ride from the south side where Ali walked with Malcolm X, and where you meet the wrong people for all the wrong reasons.

40-something years ago, I was graduating from eighth grade, contemplating what's next.

I had an idea of what it could be.

I had a dream of what it could be.

But never could I have imagined that one day while in D.C., with journalist-organizer Rob "Biko" Baker, and nationally known poet Muhibb Dyer, we would enter a room and sit across the table with the iconic Harry Belafonte, actor, activist, and singer, a man who has walked with, counseled, and sat with the late great Dr. King.

So years later on a rainy day in the city of Milwaukee, my phone rings.

On the other end, a raspy voice.

He enunciates my name, speaks slow, and tells me to call my brother Muhibb.

We fly to New York and fellowship with him.

We ate dinner with him.

We had conversations with him.

Over and over again, he embraced us, and showed interest in our voices.

Mr. B could do that.

He could sit in the room with dinner, with former bangers, community organizers, famous musicians, heads of state, and still be unapologetically himself, always tied to the culture, always connected to the struggle, and always keeping his ear tuned to the voices of the unheard, of the invisible, of the magnificent, magical, so-called marginalized masses in inner cities all over America, who are looking to be heard, not judged and liked.

While others of a past generation chastised for lack of understanding, Mr. B listened with an emphatic ear.

Other elders dismissed us.

He saw a spirit of resilience in the subculture of expression art, acrobatic techniques on linoleum, and the vocal linguistic skills of words called rap music.

And he, Mr. B, captured this, this new art form blowing up in the burrows of New York, the locking and popping body jerking motion on the beaches of California, on the streets of South Central, where they divided the city into blue and red, only to leave black and brown dead.

Young voices silenced, but rising like phoenixes through the vocal linguistics revolution of rap music.

The expression of generations born from the retaliation of King's assassination.

Thank you Mr. B.

The ancestors have been waiting.

Your work is done here.

- And as we close tonight, we invite you to join us at Juneteenth.

We want to know why Juneteenth is important to you.

So join us that afternoon between 1 and 3:00 PM, and we'll record your comments.

Some of the best will be on our Juneteenth special edition, that will air at 10:00 PM that night.

For more details, check us out at milwaukeepbs.org.

For "Black Nouveau," I'm Earl Arms.

Have a great evening.

(percussive music)