From the weekly feature – Insight – written by Peter Link for Watchfire Music subscribers.

I’ve been most fortunate to spend the last 25 years working with one of the great inspirational music artists of our time – Jenny Burton.

Anyone who has ever had the opportunity to catch her performances with The Jenny Burton Experience (JBX) here in NYC where she ran sold out for 7 years, will attest to the force of her stage personality, the power of her voice and to her depth of commitment to the moment.

Night after night I sat in the back of the hall and watched as she tore the house down, brought people to their feet and rocked their proverbial boats.

I watched her grow from a vocalist/performer who didn’t really want to talk – just sing – to a hilarious improvisational comedienne who could keep the audience in stitches and then turn on a heel and have them weeping in the next moment.

Jenny could tear your heart out with a ballad and send you through the roof with an up song. She could do it all. And with her 9-voice choir behind her singing superb vocal arrangements by Margaret Dorn, Jenny was one of New York’s hottest long-running tickets. We turned people away with packed houses night after night.

One critic said it best. “If you can’t put aside a Thursday night to catch “The Jenny Burton Experience” at midtown’s Don’t Tell Mama, you can always toss 10 sticks of dynamite into your tool shed and watch the roof take off for the stratosphere.” — Bill Ervolino, The Record

Previous to her triumphant years at New York’s top nightclub, she recorded a number of songs penned by yours truly that were never released for various reasons. One, “South Africa”, was a show-stopping JBX shining moment that never failed to get the audience hollerin’. It was never recorded. Now it has been.

Released is full of previously unreleased gems sung by the amazing Ms. Burton.  Now, looking back, we realize that this was some of the best work of her career. Produced and penned by me, you’ll find Jenny, here in great voice, at the top of her game and knockin’ down the walls with her inimitable style of R&B and Pop.

This music deserves to be heard and enjoyed. Its time is now. The songs are re-mastered and finally… Released!

Even More Inspiration

• Kickstarter.com Campaign – I
• WFM Listening Room Series II – 3
• Progress Afoot
• The Road To Inspiration — Peter Link and Julia Wade
• Looking Back on 2010
• I Stood In The Wings… Part 3

Nelson Mandela

It was done as a tour de force production number at a time when the focus of the world was on Nelson Mandela and the historic happenings at the end of Apartheid.  Each night when the song was passionately performed, the audience, black and white, would rise to their feet in full-throated exuberance at the end.  It was one of the power point moments of The Jenny Burton Experience.

Under the heading of “You Probably Know This But…”, I thought the following info was worth repeating:

Apartheid — An Afrikaans word meaning ‘apartness’

During most of the 20th century, South Africa was ruled by a system called Apartheid, which was based on the segregation of races.

During the 1960s, racial discrimination applied to most aspects of life in South Africa and Bantustans (territories set aside for black inhabitants of South Africa and South-West Africa, now Namibia) were created for Blacks. The system had evolved into ‘Grand Apartheid’. The country was rocked by the Sharpeville Massacre, the African National Congress (ANC) and Pan Africanist Congress (PAC) were banned, and the country withdrew from the British Commonwealth and declared a Republic.

During the 1970s and 80s Apartheid was reinvented – a result of increasing internal and international pressures and worsening economic difficulties. Black youth was exposed to increasing politicization, and found expression against ‘Bantu education’ through the 1976 Soweto Uprising. Despite the creation of a tri-cameral parliament in 1983 and the abolition of the Pass Laws in 1986, the 1980s saw the worst political violence by both sides.

In February 1990 President FW de Klerk announced Nelson Mandela’s release from prison and began the slow dismantling of the Apartheid system. In 1992 a whites-only referendum approved the reform process. In 1994 the first democratic elections were held in South Africa, with people of all races being able to vote. A Government of National Unity was formed, with Nelson Mandela as president and FW de Klerk and Thabo Mbeki as deputy presidents.

At that time, the end of Apartheid was changing the world for the better.  It struck me that the litmus test for the racial progress that had been evolving in the U.S. would always be judged by the progress of equality in South Africa.  We, as a people, could rise no higher in thought than what we allowed to happen in South Africa.  Hence, we look to South Africa to see the true nature of our progress.

Now, more than a decade later, it is worth reinvestigation.  My trip to Cape Town and my subsequent visit to its African Township, Masiphumelele, revealed to me that, though things are better, there’s still great work that must be done and enormous progress yet to be made.  The relevancy of this song to the world today is still vital and it’s impact still potent.  The great need for this cry for true freedom still exists.

Like I said, progress has been made, but we still got a long way to go, bro’.

SOUTH AFRICA

Music and Lyrics by Peter Link
Zulu Translations by Jimmy Mgwandi

We come from Soweto
We come from a great confusion
We come from the ghetto
We look to South Africa
We look to South Africa

We come from Zimbabwe
We come from the streets of Harlem
We come from a new age
We know where the times have gone
So we go where the lines are drawn

We come from Botswanna
We come from a deep frustration
We come from Atlanta
We look to South Africa
We look to South Africa

Ah there I see in the great Serengeti
The hope of our ancestors
Standing before me
I see in the ancient still mountains
And shining blue waters
The strength of Mandela
And still in the shanties of Cape Town
The voices of children sing
“Power to the people”    Amandla  awaytu
“Power to the people”    Amandla  awaytu
“Power to the people”    Awaytu

We come from Uganda
We come from the mask of slavery
We come from South Central
We look to South Africa
We look to South Africa

And now we look to the slums of Pretoria
To show us the way
As the straw shows the way of the wind
For there in the mood of South Africa
Lies a measure of truth
The writing is there on the wall
Where it always has been

We come from the bread lines
We come from the blackboard jungles
We rise from the confines
Impelled by the hand of God
We look to South Africa

Ah there I see upon Kilimanjaro
The souls of our forefathers
Standing before us
The mem’ries of Medgar
And Malcolm and Martin
Run deep in our blood
The fires of apartheid
Still burn through the tears screaming
“Power to the people”    Amandla  awaytu
“Power to the people”    Amandla  awaytu
“Power to the people”    Awaytu

We come from Soweto
We come from the Zulu nation
We come from the ghetto
We look to South Africa    Oomzahntsi Africa
We look to South Africa    Oomzahntsi Africa

We look to South Africa    Oomzahntsi Africa
We look to South Africa    Oomzahntsi Africa

Amandla awaytu
Amandla awaytu
Hiee hiee hiee
Ah su gah mahn!

Amandla awaytu
Amandla awaytu

Geen goo bah nee me
Nah gahn gah
Pahn dleh gko baba

Gee ah bongah weh baba
Gee nee geze incooluleco

Oom zahn tsi  afreeca

We come from the bread lines
We come from the blackboard jungles
We rise from the confines
Impelled by the hand of God

We come from Soweto
We come from the Zulu nation
We come from the ghetto
We look to South Africa!

Zulu to English Translations:

A-MAN-DLA   A-WAY-TU           (Power to the people)

OOM-ZAHN-TSI   A-FRI-CA         (Down in South Africa)

GEEN-GOO-BAH-NEE-ME
NAH-GAHN-GAH
PAHN-DLEH-GKO-BAH-BAH           (Who am I without God and freedom)

GEE-NEE-GEZE  IN-
COO-LU–LE-CO               (Give me freedom)

GEE-AH-BONGAH-WEH-BABA         (I thank you Lord)

Even More Inspiration

• The Road To Inspiration — Peter Link and Julia Wade
• Jenny Burton’s New CD – Released
• I Stood In The Wings… Part 3
• Kickstarter.com Campaign – I
• Live Music Lives!
• WFM Listening Room – Series II Finale

No matter what treasures the rest of the world offers, it’s always good to go home.

The ordeal of flying: Time spent in airplane/airports this leg – 24 hours! Cape Town to New York City. 24 hours to get home. Strangest part of the trip was that 23 of the 24 hours were in darkness. We followed the sun, but never caught up until the end, the last hour, and the sun rose over NYC – hidden by the rain.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to get home…

Four movies later and 20 hours fighting a cramped airplane seat, we landed and I was home. Or was I?  Grabbed a cab from Kennedy.  7:00 am to 9:00 am – NYC Monday morning traffic in the rain. Two more hours to get home.

Carrying precious cargo: Pillowcases of maroon, yellow and black with elephants of purple and gold, silk scarves for Julia of zebra, lion, leopard to match her hair, hippopotamus sculpture of pale green soapstone that is pure pleasure just to hold the little fat fellow in your hand, carvings and masks in mahogany and ebony, sculptures in rich green verdite of lion and rhinoceros, and la crème de la crème – a serpentine rock sculpted by John Nyakusengwa from Bubi, Zimbabwe, the size of a football with elephant head emerging into life from within.

When I first saw it, I knew not what it was and moved on to others, but it drew me back again and again until I just had to have it – as each time the elephant further revealed itself within its hiding place in the stone.

Precious cargo. Gifts for loved ones who could not go. Memories of Africa. All in a suitcase stuffed with bubble wrap and prayers.

Trying to get it all home…

The worst part: A 3 hour layover in Jo’burg. So tired I could have slept on the floor, but what if I missed my call, missed my plane? Can’t read – just makes me sleepier, can’t walk, carry-ons too heavy, can’t eat, spent all my South African rand, and so I sit and watch the hours go by, minute by minute, going a little nuts.

Trying to get home…

Finally decide to practice what I preach. Consider Eckhart Tolle and The Power of Now. Then I’m all right. I’m not there yet, but I’m on my way home as I watch the beautiful people of Africa all heading off to places unknown.

Passing the time…

Trying to get home…

The best part: Playing “Peek-Around-The-Seat” with a 3 year old black African boy who was fascinated with the American in seat 54A. The game lasted intermittently for 20 hours. His sweetness and curiosity brought great joy to my going home.

With two rolling suitcases filled with precious cargo and recording equipment and two overstuffed carry-ons passing through customs unmolested, I grab a cab, fight the traffic, and then finally stand in the rain in front of my apartment building paying the cabbie, turn and walk through a busy Monday morning lobby. Then the elevator ride to the 38th floor. Then the long walk down the hall to my door. The walk, pulling my precious cargo, seemed to take as long as Cape Town to NYC.

A note on the front door: “It’s open. In the shower”

I clumsily manhandle my bags through the door, trying not to break something in these last 3 steps. The house is quiet. Only the sound of the shower.

“Honey, I’m home!”

For more inspiring thoughts, music you can download,
and information about Peter Link, please visit Watchfire Music.

Even More Inspiration

• Luigi
• Relationship With A Tree
• Sao Paulo, Brazil
• Masterpiece
• Cape Town-City Of Inspiration
• Thoughts On Flying

I opened my shotgun door while Norm quickly turned off the engine and grabbed the video camera. I stumbled to the edge of the cliff [below was Cape of Good Hope], still refusing to take my eyes off the scene below for fear that it all might somehow slip away and disappear.

But that was not to be. I had missed many a great shot for the last several days driving and focusing, frustrated and missing the moments as they rushed by. But this one would be different.

We had been driving down the mountain, end of day, hurrying to get home for a dinner in our honor given by new South African friends. As we came around the bend, there was the shot. God’s masterpiece of the day painted before us.

Sometimes it’s best to just let the camera go and just drink it all in. Nothing captures the moment of light and color quite like the human eye, and here I realized that this was a moment where time slowed and God proudly allowed it all to be taken in, moment to moment, with no pressure, no rush.

Below us, to our left, lay one of Cape Town’s many coves and harbors. We stood high on a cliff on the side of the mountain overlooking a wash of green African treetops that fell down the mountainside before us. Panning to the right and then straight ahead was the sea, the Cape of Good Hope stretching on endlessly. On the left, thousands of houses dotting the cove, and straight on and right, the blue-green Indian Ocean meeting a yellow-orange setting sun. But cove, harbor, houses and sea were, alas, only to be imagined.

For there, below us, lay upon earth and sea, harbor and cove, the top of a cloud that had slid in noiselessly and now spread its whiteness over all below. It’s not often that one can stand upon the earth and look down upon a cloud. It’s not often that we can witness a setting sun painting that white rolling canvas with its setting reds and oranges from above. We stood breathlessly above an expanse of white marshmallow, fired by African oranges and reds and framed by a blue sky above. God was actually showing off – laughing and painting madly in His end of day spurt of flaming creativity.  We shot frame after frame trying to keep up, trying to capture what lay so far beyond our technical capabilities.

I could show you my stills. Norm could run the scene before you in living color. We could share with you an imperfect piece of the experience. I could score the film with enchanting music that represented all that I felt through it all, or try, as I’m doing, to describe it to you in my best prose, hoping that your imagination could somehow see what we saw. But ultimately, it was God’s moment, much bigger than any of us – much more beautiful than can ever be captured and described by words, music, film or human endeavor.

We stood in awe. God shrugged and said, “Aw, I got lots of ‘em.” But we were there for this one – witnessing Mind at work with its tools of light, contrast, color and surprise. We gave it our best shot and He actually gave us the time to try to capture this timeless masterpiece. We got a little piece of it and I know I got nearly all of it burned somewhere here in my own mind.

But then the sun slipped down below the edge of the world into the Indian Ocean. We drove down into that cloud and there was, in fact, a harbor and cove and ocean below it. By the time we got home to the side of our mountain there was only the darkness and the stars. The cloud had slipped away leaving the burning lights of the homes and harbor – and God still dabbling away. But that moment on the mountain was the climax, perhaps the climax of our entire trip.  That was the masterpiece of God’s creation.

We were there.

For more inspiring thoughts, music you can download,
and information about Peter Link, please visit Watchfire Music.

Even More Inspiration

• Home
• Cape Town-City Of Inspiration
• Thoughts On Flying
• Luigi
• Spiritual Scientist
• Gabriel, Come Blow Your Horn

There are long cloud shadows on the plains of Africa

But no rain
The red earth cries for water
But to no avail
The patterns of the landscape are nature’s
Not the checkered tablecloth of man
Africa does it her way
And none to argue

In the airport in Jo’berg
A hooded woman in black
With only her eyes exposed
Follows her master obediently
A black man so black and so beautiful
I cannot take my eyes off him
A tribal prince in modern dress
Chinese Egyptian
Man from Mumbai
Mozambique child in a Gap shirt
Sad-eyed priest from the Ivory Coast
American composer drinking it all in
All heading down to the end of the world
A meeting tonight in Cape Town

There are baboons in my back yard
And walking the streets of Simon’s Town

Mburra from Zimbabwe hawks her wares
Sells me soapstone hippopotamus
And lies when she says she made it
I can see it in her eyes
Somebody told her to do so
I don’t give a damn
I must have this hippopotamus

We drive on the ‘wrong side’
And laugh at the consequences
Flying hubcaps and bushes in my teeth
Takes all the concentration we got
Just to stay alive
Lost in Constantia
Funny man and straight man praying
Show us the way to Fish Hoek
Dear God
Show us the way to go home

There are baboons in my back yard
And walking the streets of Simon’s Town

The beauty and wonder of this magical city
Are more than I can bear
God in His infinite humor
Has created this implausible place
Out of the leftovers of His greatest work
Africa
And plopped it right here
On the end of the world
Cape Town

The great Mandela waiting in his prison cell
Zuma and his nine wives and countless children
A Zulu nation standing with the giraffes
The surfers searching the perfect wave
Lost seals washing ashore from Antarctica
All looking to the discombobulation
That is Cape Town South Africa

There are baboons in my back yard
And walking the streets of Simon’s Town
Fifteen baboons or more
Father Mother baby on her back
Climbing the fences
Swinging from trees
Hanging on gates
Prowling the sidewalks
Scaring the tourists
Looking as if they belonged
Acting as if they owned the joint
With their red butts indelicately bare
Out for a stroll on the end of the world
In the genteel streets of South Africa

For more inspiring thoughts, music you can download,
and information about Peter Link, please visit Watchfire Music.

Even More Inspiration

• Phoenix Rising
• Gabriel, Come Blow Your Horn
• Light At The End Of The Tunnel
• Hitting The Wall
• WFM Listening Room – Series II – Event 4
• Love Is The Reason For Living

Nothing but ocean below. Night. Outside air temperature minus 70 degrees.  Whoa baby, that’s cold, fast and high. Pretty amazing when you think about it.  Way to go, humans!  You’ve come a long way.

We’re pretty tough on the airlines these days. Truth is, we’re pretty spoiled. Consider the Spanish and English and Portuguese in their little ships.  Consider the pioneers in their wagon trains. Drive across the U.S. even today. It’s a long haul.

I have 15 movies to choose from. The food wasn’t bad, and I didn’t even have to kill it. My biggest worry was the seat next to me. Would it be filled? It wasn’t, so I can put all my stuff around me ‘cause, god knows, it’s a real pain to have to get up and get my computer out of the overhead.

I have no idea what keeps us up here. Something about aerodynamics… We put a lot of trust in this guy called “The Captain”. Actually, I think we fly because we humans deemed it so. Really. Why should this mammoth metal 747 stay up here? Because we say it should, by golly, and so it does. We’re just all makin’ it up as we go along. We need to fly, so we figure out how to fly. We want to talk long distance so we do telephone. The postal service and the library system start slowing us down so we imagine something better. We imagine a cyberspace and build a new web of communication which spans the world rather instantly. What can’t we do?

Have permanent peace, that’s what. Oh don’t get me started.

I fly in my dreams. Used to be I always did the breaststroke to get around. Then one night I was flying through some rather complicated tree branches and I noticed that when it got kinda tight, my arm just passed right through the branch. I watched it! Right through the branch. I instantly reasoned that if my arm passed through the branch, then pulling the air to move forward in my breast stroking manner wasn’t really making me move forward because the matter around me was not substantial.

So I just put my hands down at my sides and thought my way forward. I didn’t have to steer with my hands any more. I just looked to where I wanted to go and went. Interesting thing is, I learned this so well in that dream that ever after that, when I have flying dreams, I fly with the new and improved method.  I remember the correct method from dream to dream. Now there’s a concept worth exploring.

Maybe that’s really what our Captain is doing. Or maybe that’s what he’ll be doing 50 years from now.  “What are you doing tonight, Betty Jean?”

“Oh, I’m gonna think my way to Africa.”

Most of the time while flying in a jet I don’t even know I’m flying. But get me into a Piper Cub and start butterflying through the air and baby, then I know I’m flying.

We’re just off the coast of Africa now. It’s warmer outside now. Probably because of Africa. It’s now minus 57 degrees. Whoa… Gonna be a hot one.

The stewardess just walked by with a tray full of pure bottled water and it’s 4:15 am. The American pioneers are up there laughin’ about us complainin’ about the airlines.

Think I’ll put on my headphones and listen to some classical music. Maybe a little Bebel Gilberto or Beyonce. Everybody else is either asleep or watchin’ movies. Ah, here’s some Siphokazi – appropriate  African groove for this journey through the sky.

It’s quiet in a noisy sort of way. The roar of the jet you get used to and it’s now a quarter to 5 and most folks are asleep. Perhaps I’ll try. Africa awaits us. Pretty cool…

For more inspiring thoughts, music you can download,
and information about Peter Link, please visit Watchfire Music.

Even More Inspiration

• Home
• Masterpiece
• Cape Town-City Of Inspiration
• Luigi
• Phoenix Rising
• Dream Realized

On the third attempt he got it right and then laughed again in glee at the funny sound. “Peter. Peter. Peter.” He ran around in circles of joy over the humor of such a funny name saying it over and over amid gales of 5 year old guffaws.

As if Luigi isn’t a funny name…

Actually, Luigi is a wonderful name! Luigi, Luigi, Luigi! Say it again and again. An Italian name for a Brazilian boy.

But I digress…

I played with Luigi for about an hour and a half waiting for his parents to finish a meeting. He showed me his two-wheeler bicycle and his helmet which was too small for him. It was also too small for me as I tried it on amid more gales of laughter from Luigi.

When not climbing all over me he ran – up and down the patio, back and forth, for no obvious reason, just to run. Ah, the energy of youth! Then he rode his bicycle — up and down the patio, back and forth, for no obvious reason, just to ride.

Between each journey he would come back and talk to me. At first he was a bit mystified that he could not understand my words and looked at me curiously as if I had an unfortunate deformity. That lasted about thirty seconds. Then he just got over it. He would tell me about his bicycle and I would say, “Oooh” and “Aaah” and “Wow” and “Uh huh”.  Then I would talk and he would listen and then laugh and go ride his bike again or run across the patio and back.

He told me about his new school, his new shoes and something else that I never got a word of.  We were instant pals. We played Rock, Scissors, Paper and Battling Thumbs and then I hoisted him up on my knees facing me and held on to his arms and we played One, Two Three, a game I played a thousand times with my own son, where I say, “One, two, three” as I bounce him on my knees and then suddenly drop him through my knees only to catch him just before he hits the ground.

More gales of laughter. He couldn’t get enough of this game and even the next day when he first saw me came scrambling up on my knees saying “One, two, three” – only in Portuguese. I never told him what “One, two, three” meant. He figured it out with his 5-year old mind and remembered it in his own language.

Every time I saw him over the next few days we conversed like old friends and pals. He helped me set up my recording equipment and we talked at length about my laptop computer. The entire time Luigi spoke in Portuguese, Peter in English. The most amazing part of the experience however, was not that we conversed, but that Luigi, in fact, never even knew that we were not speaking the same language. He never questioned it. He just accepted it and moved on. Lesson for the world; lesson for the ages.

In the course of our three day friendship I did teach him one word in English. “Hello.” Whenever he first saw me, he would run up and say it – and then, erupt into gales of laughter – and then say it again, just to try it out.

I’ll probably never see Luigi again. I’m off to Cape Town and he’s decided to stay here in Sao Paulo with his parents. Yesterday when we parted, it was not easy. Somehow we both knew. When he came back for a second hug as his parents waited to go, he was a bit tearful.

As we hugged goodbye amid the tears, he whispered in my ear, “hello.”

For more inspiring thoughts, music you can download,
and information about Peter Link, please visit Watchfire Music.

Even More Inspiration

• Home
• Sao Paulo, Brazil
• Relationship With A Tree
• Family
• Masterpiece
• Cape Town-City Of Inspiration