One year and counting into this pandemic. So much of what I do and love has been put on ice, indefinitely.

We (Antibalas) didn’t win the Grammy this year, but to quote Bill Withers, “I’m flattered to have mattered.”

I’ve been raising a baby, composing and recording new music, restoring a 1975 Rhodes piano (and playing it). I’ve been getting together regularly with a circle of synth geeks to make improvised electronic music and collaborating with my Antibalas bandmates on new material for our next album.

I was recently appointed contributing editor at Stranger’s Guide, one of my favorite travel/culture/literary magazines. I curated a collection of music for their latest Colombia issue and will be doing a brief chat at their issue launch (online like everything else these days).

UC Berkeley invited me to do a workshop for students and resident faculty on Critical Genealogy. I helped a student and a professor get back to the 1750s in their respective family trees in the span of 45 minutes which was fun and intriguing.

Right now I’m reading “Scammer’s Yard: The Crime of Black Repair in Jamaica” by Jovan Scott Lewis, “Intimations” by Zadie Smith, and spending far too much time than I should scrolling my Twitter feed.

So many people are dying, I’m blessed and lucky to remain alive.