Meet The Composer is saddened to learn of the passing of Ameen Muhammad - composer, trumpeter, bandleader, educator, and exceptional human being. He passed away suddenly on February 27th (2003) at the age of 48. Mr. Muhammad was a New Residencies Round III composer and a friend to many.

Heather Hitchens, Meet The Composer President, on the passing of Ameen Muhammad:

I was fortunate enough to spend time in Chicago with Ameen early in my tenure at Meet The Composer. It was an experience that has never left me, often motivated and inspired me to keep doing what I am doing, and served as the beginning of a friendship that I will continue to treasure even though time and space never allowed it to fully blossom. Too often the story of our lives!

Ameen Muhammad Photo: Mike Barich

Ameen was a Mississippi native. His name, which means "one who strives for honesty," was appropos to what he was -- a man and artist who brought integrity to everything he did. His life story has always intrigued me.

He was a junior college All-American football player bound for the San Diego Chargers when he suffered a knee injury, which ended his playing career. Virtually unfazed by this, Ameen turned his attention to earning a degree in electronic engineering and considered becoming a physicist. It wasn't until the age of 20 that Ameen's flirtation with music became his passion.

He acquired a trumpet and practiced obsessively outdoors in an alcove behind Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry. He told me these practice sessions attracted a supportive audience of pigeons, mallards and even an occasional jazz lover.

Ameen also mentioned that he considered this world famous museum the "Bronzeville Museum" because of its location in the heart of Chicago's home of jazz, blues and gospel. He later paid tribute to that legendary place in his Bronzeville Suite.

Ameen Muhammad coaching a student musician at this past summer's Works concert in Minneapolis Photo: Mike Barich

Ameen was a recipient of a Meet The Composer New Residencies grant in 1995, which brought the music of his "Chicago 3-D" to the Greater Grand Boulevard Community of Chicago's Southside. During this residency, Ameen composed a lot of music including the previously mentioned Bronzeville Suite, which I believe will survive the test of time, and become meaningful to the generations that follow.

He did more than compose music though. Coming from a family of educators, he did something he vowed he would never do: he became one. Today, thousands of his "babies" are better off because of it.

In Ameen's all too brief life he accomplished a great deal more than most. While we all wish for his continued presence with us, in the form of one of his sage looks or gentle bear hugs, he continues to be present with us through the legacy of his music and his "babies."

Ameen thank you for your many gifts. May you rest in peace.

Ameen Muhammad Photo: Paul B. Goode ©1997

AO: What do you enjoy about working with youngsters?
AM: Children have an innate gift of acceptance. And in the African American community, music is an inseparable element of existence. For every aspect of African life there's corresponding music. I look at myself not as a musician or a composer but as a farmer; the seeds get planted and eventually they'll sprout. One day a young man stopped me on the street. "I know you," he said, "you're Baba Muhammad. I want to thank you; I got a scholarship to be in the chorus at Clark College and I'd never have been able to go to college if it wasn't for what you told me." Tears were streaming down his face, and fireworks and flowers were pouring out of my heart.

I look at myself not as a musician or a composer but as a farmer; the seeds get planted and eventually they'll sprout.

All these young people need is someone to tell them, "You can." Growing up in Mississippi in the early 1950s, "You can't" was a very popular phrase. The first two words I learned to distinguish between was "white" and "colored." I'm glad that challenge doesn't exist today for these young people, but that's the environment I had to overcome. Those experiences didn't embitter me, they just made me strive to fight against that kind of thing and deal with people on a more humanistic basis. The term is "human being," but being human is something you must acquire in order to be a human being.
AO: Does your music come from a source outside of yourself?
AM: Yeah. Oh man, I don't know nothin'! My music does not come from me, it comes to me. I can't take claim for it. The Creator is the source of my inspiration. I don't write for my own enjoyment, I write what I feel might influence someone else's enjoyment. Seeing them forget their day and let themselves go: "oh man, that excites me." It's a gift to be a conduit and to give, and it humbles you, man. When people appreciate what you do, there's no greater feeling.
AO: You refer to yourself as a Griot ...
AM: In ancient African traditions, Griots are educators, the keepers of history. The Griots are storytellers; they're also master musicians, and a big part of their function is to make people laugh. If I had not been a musician I'd have wanted to be a comedian. Red Skelton was my cat. There's no better feeling than laughter. Well, there's a few ... but even those make you laugh! I'm writing a piece now called Humor because laughter is what I 1ike. When you go out to hear music, if it's not to make you dance, it should make you feel good. I never had a childhood … growing up, I didn't know any one my own age until I was eight. I knew people who had been slaves, and who still had their freedom papers. That's why I like joviality. Give me some laughter; I can do the solemn stuff by myself. I believe that we're supposed to inspire each other to accomplish higher things than we would as individuals. Music has really allowed me to do that.
AO: Who and where were you in 1968?
AM: I was Curtis Chapman. I was waiting for a trumpet to come to me from Officer Williams. I was just getting into high school. I was affiliated with the Black Panther Party. I was crying tears over the murder of Martin Luther King. I recognized that I was a Muslim. I got a strong sense of what it took to get certain things out of an instrument. That was a big growth year for me.
AO: What were you going for in Bronzeville Suite?
AM: In the late 1940s and 1950s, Bronzeville had a hip nightlife: the Grand Ballroom, McKee's Lounge and the Rum Boogie. Jitney cabs would take you from 63rd Street to 29th Street for a quarter, and if you got off at any place in between and walked four blocks either way of South Park, you'd be in the midst of some great music. I just tried to grab a moment of that feeling in each of the compositions.
AO: The jazz audience responds to musicians in a way classical audiences wouldn't be caught dead doing.
AM: Oh, absolutely!
AO: Does that come out of the Church?
AM: It goes back further than that; gospel comes out of Africa. You see people in churches shouting and falling out and expressing themselves out of inspiration, not restraining themselves in any way. Jazz reflects those things. I don't care if you're a stuffed shirt: I listen to nothing but Beethoven and Debussy is my cousin ... You let Rahsaan Roland Kirk blow some stuff on you, you gonna holler. You let Charlie Parker start runnin' them riffs, somethin's gonna happen. If it don't come out externally, somethin' internally shouts. I believe in writin' for the shouts.
AO: An exquisite moment in your life ...
AM: When I cut my daughter's umbilical cord and she looked up at me like, "I got ya…"
AO: Is there something you'd like to be able to do just once?
AM: I would like to be able to take a group of young people with me on a world tour and let them experience what giving to others is like for a musician.
AO: If you could have dinner tonight with anyone who ever lived ... ?
AM: Louis Armstrong. I'd sit down with Pops.

For more info on Mr. Muhammad go to the Website of the AACM, of which he is a member.