Pieces of Silver

By Matt Silver

This Sunday in New Orleans, the Philadelphia Eagles will battle the Kansas City Chiefs in Super Bowl LIX (that’s 59 for those of you who don’t count as the Romans do). It’s the second time in three years that the Eagles and Chiefs will meet on Super Sunday, so, naturally, a rivalry has developed — not just between the teams but between the cities themselves. 

The 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Ala. Photo by Ted Tucker, Greater Birmingham Convention & Visitors Bureau.

By Matt Silver

On this MLK Day, we honor not just Dr. King’s words and actions but those of the broader struggle for civil rights. And we do so, in our small part, by pairing the stories of that era with the artistic response they incited.

Undoubtedly, the tragedies of that period shaped artistic expression as much as the triumphs, if not more so. The 1963 bombing of the 16th St. Baptist Church in Birmingham, Ala. is no exception. We invite you to read a bit about the tragedy below and engage with the following musical statements, handpicked by our on-air hosts for this MLK Day.

John Coltrane’s “Alabama”

Charles Mingus’s Town Hall Concerts

Ramsey Lewis’s “Wade in the Water”

George Adams’s “Going Home”

Babs Gonzales’s “We Ain’t Got Integration”

Max Roach’s “Let Thy People Go"

Nina Simone took the stage at Wetsbury Music Fair on Long Island in April 1968, three days after Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated.

By Matt Silver

Over the last several years, America has had to reckon with issues of race, class, civil rights, opportunity, and dignity in a way it hasn’t since Nina Simone first sang protest songs.

Perhaps as a byproduct of the moment, there’s been a resurgence of both popular and critical interest in Simone, the High Priestess of Soul and a civil rights icon. That’s why, on this Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I’m compelled to revisit Nina Simone’s ’Nuff Said!

From left: Rev. Ralph Abernathy, Rev. Martin Luther King, and John Lewis, student leader of the Freedom Riders and future U.S. congressman from Georgia. May 23, 1961. Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, NYWT&S Collection.

By Matt Silver

On this MLK Day, we honor not just Dr. King’s words and actions but those of the broader struggle for civil rights. And we do so, in our small part, by pairing the stories of that era with the music they inspired.

Read a bit about the Freedom Riders below, and pair with the following tunes, handpicked by our on-air hosts for the occasion:

Art Blakey’s “The Freedom Rider”

Chico Hamilton’s “Freedom Traveler”

Kenny Burrell’s “Freedom”

Dannie Richmond’s “Freedom Ride” (begins @ 8:30)

Civil rights marchers rest along the route from Selma to Montgomery, Ala. in March 1965. Photo by Peter Pettus. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

By Matt Silver

In March 1965, beaten and bloodied, civil rights leaders and ordinary citizens persisted in marching from Selma, Ala. to the state capital of Montgomery. Even after being turned away not once, but twice—first by physical force, then by the legal force of a federal injunction. 

By Matt Silver

We at KSDS Jazz 88.3 are always, just by the very nature of our jobs, celebrating Black history — at least implicitly. But as one of the few remaining radio stations devoted entirely to presenting jazz and blues, we have a special responsibility, especially during Black History Month, to illuminate the central role Black artists have played in the creation, development, and continued evolution of the music we champion here every day.

By Matt Silver

This past Sunday evening (Jan. 5), I hosted the first "Breaking Jazz" of the new year, which gave me the opportunity to present KSDS listeners with the music and musicians resonating most acutely with me right now, in this first week of 2025. 

Hours before most of us woke up to a new year last Wednesday morning, a man whom authorities say was “hellbent on destruction” turned an everyday pickup truck into an instrument of warfare, plowing it through a dense crowd of New Year’s party goers on Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Claiming allegiance to the Islamic fundamentalist terror group ISIS and flying its flag from the back of that pickup truck, this man had seemingly come to believe that he could find spiritual repair for whatever had profoundly broken in his life by killing a bunch of people he didn’t know in a place that’s internationally famous for celebrating everything — and, maybe more meaningfully, nothing at all — to excess.

*Pictured above: Trumpeter Riley Mulherkar. Photo by Zenith Richards.

By Matt Silver

As we approach Thanksgiving, I feel compelled to share my abundant gratitude for all the great new music that’s come out this past year, and especially this past six months since I began hosting Breaking Jazz (Sundays, 6:30 to 8 p.m. PT). In keeping with year-end traditions, this gratitude will take the form of a “best of” list. But this particular list is exciting because it will be starting a new tradition. Behold! The inaugural Breaking Jazz Best Albums of the Year!

The November 5, 1964 edition of Downbeat with a cover titled “Dizzy’s Dream Inauguration Day, 1965.” Gillespie, of course, was never actually inaugurated – he never even made it on the ballot – but his humor-filled campaign sparked important conversations about the urgency and efficacy of the Civil Rights Movement to that time.

By Matt Silver

By now, you’ve heard it several times: Sixty years ago, Dizzy Gillespie ran for president. And it was kind of a joke but also kind of serious and ultimately not ever fully viable. All that’s true enough, but it doesn’t really tell the whole story.

Portrait of Charlie Parker, Red Rodney, Dizzy Gillespie, Margie Hyams, and Chuck Wayne, New York City, c. 1947. Photo by William Gottlieb, courtesy of Library of Congress.

By Matt Silver 

There’s a famous quote attributed to Miles Davis. It goes, “You can tell the history of jazz in four words: Louis Armstrong. Charlie Parker.” Whether that statement is fair or not — whether it does justice to anyone not named Armstrong or Parker — is beside the point. By most credible accounts, Davis, setting all the musical genius aside, was a brilliant provocateur, a hot-take pioneer whose aloof, disagreeable, superior demeanor was carefully and consciously constructed. Whatever Miles Davis played was what he genuinely believed; everything else was in service of a different department of the corporation.

Nevertheless, Davis's declaration — glib, reductive, and disingenuous though it may have been — resonates.