The Autobiography of An Ex-Colored Man, by writer, civil rights activist, songwriter (“Lift Every Voice and Sing”), and NAACP leader James Weldon Johnson, was an important American novel when it was published in 1912, and is equally important in the twenty-first century. The title character is biracial, considering himself Black but able to pass as Caucasian, struggling throughout the novel with the choice to seek safety for himself and his children and pass, or to follow his dream of composing music in order to uplift his brothers and sisters. Given the polarized nature of communication, let alone communion, between people in this country in 2025, we can see how this book might resonate with readers, whether or not they have personal experience with the same divided self as the protagonist.
Saxophonist Mark Turner isn’t biracial, but he is a student of Black American history, and read Ex-Colored Man early in his studies. Already one of jazz’s most ambitiously creative minds, Turner found inspiration in Johnson’s roman à clef to write a suite of songs concerning it – a series of, as the title notes, reflections on its prose, its characters, and its ideals. He premiered the suite in 2018 at the Village Vanguard; eight years later, he’s assembled a dream team of friends and associates – pianist David Virelles, trumpeter Jason Palmer, bassist Matt Brewer, and drummer Nasheet Waits – to bring the music to the studio and capture it for posterity.
Beginning with “Anonymous,” a term that not only identifies the protagonist (who is never referred to by name) but also the designation under which the book was originally published, Turner uses his skills as player and composer in a way that embodies the album title. No jazz opera, Turner doesn’t waste time retelling the story – instead he reacts to it musically, wrapping long tunes around quotes from the novel, as read by himself. That means the power of tracks like “Pragmatism,” “The Texan…The Soldier,” and the epic “New York” comes as much from the literary themes as much as from the masterful melodies and performances. Sometimes the music doesn’t directly match the vibe of the prose – witness the gorgeous music suffusing “Pulmonary Edema” and the defiantly uplifting tune that follows “Identity Politics,” which concludes with the words “I have sold my birthright for a mess of pottage.”
That contact between beauty and fear is no mistake on Turner’s part. After all, he lays out the overarching theme – one more dominant in the album but still important to the novel – with track 2: “Juxtaposition.” “It’s no disgrace to be Black,” reads Turner during “Pragmatism,” “but it’s often very inconvenient.” That’s a societal dichotomy that obviously persists, but Turner makes his own commentary on that point using both Johnson’s words and his own Reflections on a Black classic.
