This article captures a 2012 Guelph Jazz Festival performance by the late Abdullah Ibrahim at the River Run Centre, incorporating the concept of ‘zanshin’ to describe the profound, meditative atmosphere. The piece reflects on the pianist’s martial arts-influenced, “Meditation in Motion” style, connecting it to themes of freedom and the legacy of other jazz giants.

In 2012, during a remarkable Guelph Jazz Festival, I was fortunate to receive accreditation reporting for Latin Jazz Network. One concert in particular touched me deeply — a once-in-a-lifetime event: South African master musician Abdullah Ibrahim in solo piano performance.

The River Run Centre was packed. A photographer from the webzine was on hand, but we were disappointed when an announcement was made that photography would not be permitted.

Globally celebrated South African jazz icon and pianist Abdullah Ibrahim — formerly known as Dollar Brand — passed away in Prien am Chiemsee, Bavaria, Germany at the age of 91.

When I heard that Ibrahim had passed, I was immediately transported back to that historic performance, one I had the privilege to witness firsthand.

Head bowed, the energy in the room palpable as zanshin—an awareness beyond the obviously apparent, a deep connection to spirit, and a utilization of the collective energy. As someone with an extensive martial arts background, I have always lived by the saying “motion is lotion,” believing that physical and spiritual fluidity keeps the soul alive. Watching Ibrahim, I saw the ultimate Meditation in Motion. His movements were deliberate, grounded, and deeply connected to his own martial arts discipline.

Yet, the piano also became something weaponized — a device that sparked deeply profound thoughts of pain, peace, love, hate, turmoil, and tenacity.

In titling my 2012 report Hymns to Freedom, I was, in a subtle way, also paying tribute to Canadian piano legend Oscar Peterson. The comparison was not in their distinct virtuosity, but in the shared use of music as a vehicle for freedom.

My experience of both master musicians carried with it their affiliations with other giants — trumpeter Hugh Masekela and drum icon Max Roach. As I sat in the audience painting these portraits of musical sound, I couldn’t help but be drawn into a fantastical jam session playing out in my mind: How would Max approach this tune? What would Hugh be doing? Albums like Streams of Consciousness and Jazz Epistles washed over me, playing concurrently as I meditated on this stirring piano virtuosity.

When the concert ended, I felt completely satisfied. The maestro had laid his soul bare. There was nothing left that needed to be said.

Thank you, maestro, for this experience and for the legacy of music you gift us. Rest in power, Ibrahim.

Latin Jazz Network original 2012 featured report: Abdullah Ibrahim – Hymns of Freedom

Sonny Rollins passed away on May 25, 2026, at his home in Woodstock, New York. He was 95. With his passing, jazz loses one of the last living greats of the bebop era — a Saxophone Colossus who, alongside John Coltrane and Charlie Parker, shaped the sound of an art form and the imaginations of everyone lucky enough to hear him play.

I was one of the lucky ones.

In May of 2007, Rollins and company stormed into Toronto’s Massey Hall on the opening leg of a world tour in support of a new album, Sonny Please, released on his own Doxy Records. The group accompanying Mr. Rollins that night was made up of Clifton Anderson on trombone, Bobby Broom on guitar, Bob Cranshaw on bass, Steve Jordan on drums, and Kimati Dinizulu on percussion.

I missed the introduction and the first song — a fact I will always regret. Because there was nothing quite like seeing Rollins in his transformer mode: the old man hobbles out onto the stage, hauls what appears to be a giant horn to his mouth, and before your eyes, the transformation takes place. Instantly, the old man becomes a mighty bebop god. The huge, melodic, wickedly swinging tenor sound billows from the bell of the horn; the musician’s body turns elastic — bending, swaying, dancing with his saxophone — and the most beautiful sounds imaginable fill the hall. A Saxophone Colossus, indeed.

I came in with the rest of the latecomers, settled in, and took in the scene. Mr. Rollins, dressed to kill and looking like a New York fashion statement, greeted us with a characteristic piece of mischief — a warning to beware of the unions. “No taping or videoing the performance,” he said with a grin. “I just don’t want to see anybody get into any trouble.”

At 76, Sonny Rollins was already an inspiration in his endurance and his refusal to surrender intensity. The band around him played with a relaxed confidence, conserving energy for the long haul with their esteemed leader. When Rollins took to the stage, jazz history came to life. His tone was exceptional, his style fresh and vibrant, full of fire — communicating with a sense of urgency, laying down bold statements of pure melodic grace, elegant and explosive in equal measure.

The house was a good mix of young and old. I overheard a gentleman nearby reminiscing about the legendary May 1953 Charlie Parker quintet concert at this same venue — Roach, Mingus, Powell, and Gillespie on the same stage. Rollins wasn’t part of that night, but he had played alongside all of those giants at various times. He carried that whole lineage in every phrase he played.

The sextet worked through songs from the new album — the title track “Sonny Please,” a dynamite tune full of great saxophone breaks, with Rollins still exploring and inventing at the highest level; “Serenade,” reminiscent of “Auld Lang Syne”; “Someday I’ll Find You”; and “Stairway to the Stars.” The standards came too — “Don’t Stop the Carnival” and “St. Thomas,” the calypso tune he had made his own decades before.

He didn’t announce songs. He was all business, commanding the stage. Clifton Anderson contributed some fiery trombone work once warmed up, and percussionist Kimati Dinizulu matched Rollins blow for blow, producing sounds from every corner of the globe. But the night belonged to Sonny. He could do no wrong. He played with integrity, honesty, fire, and passion. The love he had for this music was written into every note, every howl, every breath.

When the concert ended, and we applauded for an encore, I heard voices around me chanting — We Love You, Sonny.

There was no encore. Sonny Rollins simply waved. Then, leaning into the microphone one last time, he said: “Will see you again, I hope!”

We never did. But what he gave us was enough to last a lifetime. Rest in peace, Saxophone Colossus. The music you made will never stop playing.

The Room Upstairs is a sold-out, critically acclaimed production — and that tells you something. The Winchester Street Theatre was full, the dance community is talking, and Natasha Powell’s Holla Jazz has clearly struck a chord. I wanted to love every moment of it.

Report by: Paul J. Youngman — May 1, 2026

The Room Upstairs — Winchester Street Theatre, Toronto

Choreographer: Natasha Powell

Dance Company: Holla Jazz

Dancers: Raoul Wilke, Hollywood Jade, Caroline “Lady C” Fraser, Miha Matevzic

Musicians: Colleen Allen (saxophone), Rebecca Hennessy (trumpet), Tom Richards (trombone), Thompson T. Egbo-Egbo (piano), Scott Hunter (bass), Eric West (drums)

Repertoire: “Giant Steps,” “Naima,” “My Favourite Things,” “Aisha,” “Syeeda’s Song Flute,” “Lazy Bird.”

The music was the undisputed soul of the evening. Colleen Allen and Rebecca Hennessy moved me deeply, their playing full of warmth and nuance. Pianist Thompson T. Egbo-Egbo had moments of genuine brilliance, and the ensemble as a whole performed with spirit and real passion. On those terms alone, the night was worth your time.

My hesitation — and I say this with the deepest respect for John Coltrane — is a question that lingered all evening: is this music made for dance? In a memorable conversation I once had with the great trumpeter Marcus Belgrave, we spoke about the dance halls of the 1960s. Belgrave, who played with Ray Charles, remembered Coltrane being booked into those same rooms and it simply not translating. Coltrane’s music is concert hall music, meditative and transcendent, designed for deep listening. It is soulful and restorative — and perhaps that explains why two of my dance-loving companions drifted off during the performance. The music invites you inward.

The dancers — clearly gifted, every one of them — felt to me like they were working against something invisible, as though the music asked for stillness while the choreography asked for fire. The transcendental quality I was hoping to see in the movement never quite arrived for me personally. I found my attention drifting toward the musicians, drawn irresistibly into the music I love.

I kept imagining what it might have looked like — impossibly, fancifully — if Jimmy Slyde, the King of Slides, had been turned loose on this music. Sliding up a wall, finding the heat in it. Or Fayard and Harold Nicholas, or Katherine Dunham with her profound mind-body-spirit philosophy. Those are unfair comparisons, of course, and I know it. If those combinations had been possible, they would have happened. But the imagining tells you something about what I was hoping the choreography might reach for.

The show opens with a yoga-influenced sequence I found genuinely engaging, and the arrival of the full cast carries a lovely sense of creative gathering. This is a thoughtful, carefully constructed piece of work.

As we mark John Coltrane’s centenary year, there will be more tributes ahead, and I look forward to every one of them. The Room Upstairs is a sincere and ambitious homage to a towering figure. It simply left me hungry for a little more fire.

About The Room Upstairs by Natasha Powell / Holla Jazz

The Room Upstairs is work inspired by and set to the music of John Coltrane. An ensemble work accompanied by live music that uses the dancing language of jazz, lindy hop, and black vernacular dances, The Room Upstairs is a world that holds space for devotion, camaraderie, and grief.

Presented by DanceWorks and Toronto Dance Theatre (TDT)
Co-Produced by DanceWorks and Holla Jazz in partnership with Toronto Dance Theatre

April 29-May 2, 2026, at the Winchester Street Theatre