FORGET THE GUY from the old Dos Equis commercials — Taj Mahal is the most interesting man in the world. When he holds court on his front porch, spinning yarns into a tapestry connecting nearly eight decades of singular experience, there’s no way all that goodness is going to fit into one short feature. Last month we set the stage with the international treasure at his home in Berkeley, California, where he reflected on his remarkable career, trusty Regal resonator in hand.
Mahal can circumnavigate the globe in one lick, from its African origins to Caribbean adaptations, through the American filter and all the way to the Hawaiian Islands, where he amalgamates it all with the Hula Blues Band. He can explain each element, including subtle variations in phrasing, timing and articulation, and tell how a turnaround can vary from one locale to another. He embellishes anecdotes with affable and often hysterical imitations of everyone from a West African griot to Rastafarians, Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson, all with a generous helping of Hawaiian slang or pidgin. Mahal provides cultural context for the instruments, the music and his story.
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