Zakir Hussain left a treasure trove of values

There has never been a day in my life that has scared me more than today. The news of the death of Ustad Zakir Hussain, or ZG, as I and many others refer to him, is not only shocking but a great void, leaving the entire music community reeling, with many fans and admirers surely disappointed. As someone who saw him as an idol, then a teacher, and most recently a friendly guide, I still don’t understand his absence. Maybe, I’m just learning how to keep calm.

I’ve come to accept that Z should be a permanent fixture in music, always among us in an iconic and charismatic physical form, which immediately inspired a cherubic smile from me. The mere thought of those russet-colored locks, beautiful hands and conversational mischievousness is an almost daily vitamin for me and many others fortunate enough to converse with him.

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Musically, it’s hard to find another person who brings the entire musical fabric of the world together with purposeful unification. It was Z and his tabla that made connections and bridges where they didn’t exist before. It is said that the voice is the best instrument between the heart and the mind, but his tabla sang like no voice had been sung before. His personal creativity defined the dimensions of his exploration of what the tabla could do. The asymptote approaches Z strongly. From bluegrass, to electronica, to orchestral concerts, and without question in Indian music, the Z tabla sound was a natural embodiment of the highest aesthetics, virtuosity, and playful artistry.

As a teenager growing up in New Jersey, I first saw him at Wesleyan University in 1997 with Pandit Birju Maharaj and then at a town hall in NYC where he performed with Pandit Jasraj and M. Balamurali performed a double header with Krishna. These two live experiences changed me deeply and suddenly the desire to learn Tabla became uncontrollable.

To this day, I can’t imagine how my fate allowed me to be invited to attend his annual tabla workshop in San Anselmo, to play a mridangam solo in front of him at Abbaji Barsi in 2014, to go on Masters of Percussion tours, and finally to speak under him about family matters and life lessons. Go to the personal advice site. I must be the luckiest man in the world.

As a teacher, he showed the greatest respect for what came before: elders, repositories, protocols and, at the same time, a completely creative rationalist, he immediately forced the elimination of narrow ideologies and distinctions. As an artist, his approach to music was at any rate an irreverent preciousness that survived improvisational moments.

The cupid-like sound released from the tabla into the audience was his personal arrow. We fell in love with the romance, vulnerability, excitement and storytelling depth of his music production. When Jay Z was on stage, the 2,000 audience thought he was playing for each person individually.

As I write this, the pain is slowly setting in that he is indeed lost. However, there is an incredible wealth of values ​​that he left for me and many others to think about, decode and ultimately teach. For all the success that found him, he wore it easily and clearly. He always mentioned that the best place for a student to learn and seek is through the fire of knowledge.

The biggest loss, I think, beyond all the Himalayan music he made, is the boundless humanity he portrayed. He gave himself willingly to every single fan, every musician, organizer, etc. The list goes on. I remember very vividly, an excited taxi driver calling India from Manhattan to ZZ to his relatives. And of course, Zedd spoke freely and happily to cheer them up, even though it was right before their concert. Like this, I’m sure everyone has a Z Ji story and it’s equally authentic, personal and the most delicious expression of generosity we’ve come across.

I consider his humanity as his greatest legacy, which is also the most difficult to emulate. He was the true embodiment of the phrase “It’s good to be important, but it’s even more important to be good.”

Z Gee, you are greatly missed – love and respect always!

(The author is a renowned percussionist)

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