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It’s been over a decade since Kendrick Lamar welcomed a cabal of Los Angeles’ most brilliant jazz beatniks into the studio to forge a body of songs that would affix the words “voice of a generation” to his name. The sessions were a catalyst from which a collection of cosmically aligned instrumentalists that included Kamasi Washington, Terrace Martin, and Thundercat released a rush of envelope-pushing jazz fusion music that both inspired and took inspiration from the Black Lives Matter movement. It was a righteous explosion of Black artistic and sociopolitical expression that firmly established L.A. as the most happening center of the jazz universe.
Coming up in the scene were brothers Aaron and Lawrence Shaw, young working musicians with Garveyite roots—their most visible credit was probably Aaron’s assist on Tyler, the Creator’s vibey yet structurally complex 2015 song “2Seater.” The pair’s Black Nile project began to take shape as the decade came to a close. It was, they’d often assert, “the music of now.” Yet the band was undeniably a step behind the surge of fire and fury a few years previous, and struggled to garner the same plaudits as some of its peers. Aaron Shaw, in particular, might feel like it’s time he was handed his flowers, given his claims to have taught André 3000 the flute.
No score yet, be the first to add.
Black Nile’s fourth LP, Indigo Garden, feels like a lost scroll of L.A. jazz’s righteous 2010s era; it slides comfortably alongside Washington’s The Epic, Martin’s Velvet Portraits, and Ryan Porter’s The Optimist. Steeped in the wisdom of the elders, it’s conceptually rich music that honors Alice Coltrane, Latin jazz, electronica, and the Black liberation movement. At its core, Indigo Garden is about a city. Song titles conjure the appropriate imagery: “City of Silent Angels,” “Slauson Fog,” “Day Break.” But the album’s alignment with the streets runs much deeper. The arrangements capture L.A.’s warmth, energy, and complexity like the snap of a Dr. Dre beat or the twilight color palette of a Michael Mann flick. It’s unmistakable; something that cannot be faked.
Aaron (who plays the saxophone, among other instruments) and Lawrence (bass) are joined by Luca Mendoza on keys and Myles Martin on drums, as well as a handful of smart draft picks sprinkled throughout. It’s Aaron’s sax—such a luscious weapon on his recent solo debut, And So It Is—that typically leads the way, and his performance is multifaceted and memorable. The catchy motif that bookends “Exposure” flutters like a hummingbird, while his expansive performance on “City of Silent Angels” gloriously contrasts a squelching robo-bop rhythm section that nods to L.A.’s astral button-pusher Flying Lotus. The latter song exemplifies Martin’s neck-snappingly furious style; his drumming simply never settles. On “Day Break,” the percussion is constantly ducking and diving. Even “Danielle,” a pulpy midnight noir number featuring Sören Smedvig on trumpet, includes some natty drum fills.
Indigo Garden is full of such subtle shifts, requiring multiple listens to pin down, though every composition is relatively brisk—none longer than six minutes. There is, in certain places, more space for Black Nile to play with: “City on Fire,” about the terrible wildfires of January 2025, veers from sinister to chaotic in the confusingly taut running time of less than two minutes, begging to be developed into something more full-bodied.
The band also deploys snippets of conversation from outside voices, helping to give the place an inviting, neighborhood feel. “Your homage to L.A., this is, this is, y’know, some Blacktownship,” says the weathered voice of educator Jae Jai Kabasa. “So I’m thankful that you would pay homage to those who came before you…. That’s connecting the links.” His statement telegraphs the band’s era-connecting intentions almost too obviously, but it is an accurate assessment. In celebrating a city, Black Nile’s “music of now” keeps its jazz music tradition moving forward harmoniously.
