THE RED GRAND PIANO

A boy from the Old City, with a charming, undemanding simplicity - that is how we always remember him - a modest boy who came spiritually unscathed through the temptations of fame. But was he famous? Memories of him divide into two feelings - pride and bitterness: pride in him as an experimental composer, pianist and musician, whom critics associate with a radically new trend in jazz, based on the Azerbaijani system of harmonies, and bitterness that needs no explanation.

Unfinished higher education

The news of his death came like thunder. Vaqif with the unique, almost guilty smile, never out of his leather jacket, a highlight of Baku TV evenings (as the leader of the Sevil vocal ensemble, ultra-popular in its day), had died! I still remember an article in one of the Moscow newspapers that sounded the peals of thunder rolling over the country. "Before and after the obituary" it was called. It began with Vaqif Mustafazada's application to join Soviet Azerbaijan's Composers' Union. It also included a document that basically contained the verdict, "The board of the Union of Composers of Azerbaijan has not accepted V. Mustafazada as a member of the union, as he has not finished his higher education."

It's his smile. He was taking his daughter to school, sometime in the mid-70s. You should have seen how he parted from her for a whole, long day, how he bent to carefully tie her laces, straightened her hairpin. At last he smacked a kiss on her cheek and left, constantly looking round to see her. Getting to the school gates, he called out unexpectedly, "Have I forgotten anything?" with a cunning glint in his eye. The little girl shook her head after which he ran up to her, kissed her once more and left again.

It would be wrong to say that he was ignored; he was written about quite a lot, but more as a pianist promoting jazz music. Here is a review of a solo concert from those years: "Thanks to his brilliant technique and broad, creative spectrum, Mustafazada manipulated the audience through jazz time and space, from the romantic world of George Gershwin, bathed in delicate lyricism, to the visible, urban shapes of his own composition Today, from the punctuated splashes of Thelonius Monk to the incomprehensible depths of harmony in Qara Qarayev's Seven Beauties. In these peregrinations Mustafazada is true to himself: not for one split second does he lose the fine mastery of the improviser, carefully weaving the originality and freshness of his style into a cloth of jazz classics."

His magical performances always created a storm of delight. The auditorium would fall silent in rapt attention when Vaqif created his, each time unrepeatable, interpretation. An invisible force of spirit, force of personality, would arise from the depths of the piano. It was a genuine gift from the Muses, a gift with a surprising temperament, which varied from the lyrical poetic to the indomitably explosive. 

A star of world jazz. Was he a star? He certainly was, but not in today's terms, when the stars need gossip, scandals and shocks to remind the public of their existence. Vaqif did not need any of that, nor did we, his audience.

Individuality - seeing things differently - is rarely welcomed. It is just one step from incomprehension to rejection. Vaqif, whose brilliant compositions are today performed by the whole musical world, was not accepted over the threshold of the Composers' Union. "He has not finished his higher…" You might think that they are talking about a musical novice. At that time he was the author of several compositions, well known here in Azerbaijan and also performed in Poland, France and other countries. The Union-wide firm Melodiya had released six recordings of him performing his own work. Several weeks before his death he presented for the judgment of the great Azerbaijani conductor Niyazi his concert for piano and orchestra. He collaborated with the theatre, wrote music for documentary films. Vaqif Mustafazada's piece, Waiting for Aziza, won the first prize at the eighth international jazz composers' competition in Monaco in 1979. Vaqif was the first composer from the Soviet Union at that time to claim such a high spot in a prestigious forum. No, he was not a musical novice but he still found no place in the Composers' Union directory. Now he is talked about as an era in the people's cultural life, but then he was "not finished". The unforgiving pestilence of stagnation, when pedantry pronounced the verdict. 

Theatre of war

"The more original the discovery, the more obvious it later appears," said Arthur Koestler. The example of Vaqif Mustafazada is confirmation of this. We are already used to the existence of Azerbaijani jazz, as though it had always existed. Moreover, we forget that for many years not one of the non-American performers could do anything radically new in jazz. The elite of the founding fathers of the genre was an unassailable bastion. It is thanks to the work of Vaqif Mustafazada that the term Azerbaijani jazz now exists and has been recorded in the music catalogues. The world owes this phenomenon to Vaqif.

We only realized the scale of our loss a year after he passed away. I remember that republican TV had made a programme dedicated to the anniversary of his death. But no, he did know success in his lifetime. Every one of his performances was a success. His popularity grew surprisingly quickly both in the former USSR and abroad. His improvisations, infused with luxuriant folk melodies, were heard on radio and TV. But it was only after his death that he stood before us in all his creative magnificence. Genuine recognition came with that programme about him after his death. He began to be called the "founder of Azerbaijani jazz" and comments about him were quoted from the maestros of world jazz. In a single evening a metamorphosis occurred in people's understanding - Vaqif Mustafazada, honoured artist of the republic, suddenly grew into a world phenomenon. His compatriots found the true worth of their contemporary.

"Vaqif Mustafazada is an extraordinary pianist. It is impossible to identify his equal," American musician and critic Willis Conover wrote about him. "He is the most lyrical pianist I have ever known." Jazz pianist B. Johansson from Sweden said of Vaqif's compositions: "His music is surprisingly modern and at the same time resonates with the mysteries of ancient Caucasian melodies, sung by bards for many a generation. They are the tale told by Scheherazade on the 1,002nd night!"

He was a giant in his creative work and utterly helpless in everyday life. Like all those whom God has marked, he was not practical and sometimes simply powerless to tackle the most basic domestic problems. He was vulnerable, led a chronically unsettled daily life, a cause of inner discomfort, and was always looking for work that suited him in order to earn his daily crust. Life on the edge of nervous tension is inevitably doomed to dramatic breakdown. Vaqif died in Tashkent, on stage, at the piano. Waiting for Aziza was the name of his farewell composition, dedicated to his daughter.

"Art is not the result but the act of creation," the French say. Thinking about that long ago Tashkent concert, you understand the truth of these words. With Vaqif the act of creation became an act of sacrifice when the stage transformed into a theatre of war between life and death. Alas!

More than a quarter of a century has passed since the heart of this tragic, unique individual stopped beating, in 1979. The master is no longer with us whose virtuoso improvisations gave a new continuation and new life to mugham. He died at the time of the greatest flowering of his exceptional talent. He was near 40 then.

Baku has always stood out for its special responsiveness to the culture of jazz. And today many musicians work in this unfading genre. They include genuine masters of their art, their jazz is high quality, they know all the standards and sometimes even play with creative fantasy. But I think they are unlucky - Vaqif Mustafazada set the bar so impossibly high that even when you listen to the most talented of them, something is missing, that special individuality and genuine artistry. Maybe it is because jazz cannot be mass produced, created to satisfy the statistically average person. We saw another jazz and another jazz man, someone who was on fire for jazz and burnt himself out for it! Jazz-like compositions (or pseudo-jazz) can be recognized from their first bars, because creative skill is not inspiration. He combined in his work many hypostases - composer, arranger, performer, improviser. But I think his main achievement is that he created the image of the Azerbaijani jazz man!

Years have passed, but whenever I pass the Bul-Bul Music School, I see the vision of Vaqif hurrying to lessons with his eight-year-old daughter. And a little later his smile and shout of "Have I forgotten anything?"

Vaqif Mustafazada died on the eve of international recognition, on the verge of fame. The author of nearly 1,300 musical pieces had a great dream - to have a red grand piano. He won an international piano competition in Spain in 1979, with a prize of $25,000. Vaqif refused the prize, preferring instead his cherished dream of a grand piano, surprising everyone with his choice. His dream was not to be fulfilled - the great jazz man died on 16 December 1979 and in January 1980 the jury decided to send his red piano to Baku.