Cultures come together for musical awakening

In the poem, Sundaralingam describes her friendship with her Aikido teacher, an African American man who had struggled for acting roles in Hollywood in the 1950s, a man who spoke to her of "foreign worlds," of lynchings of blacks in Alabama, of the racial taunts he had endured.

Shelby, an African American musician who lives in the Mission District, joined the couple for many discussions -- and meals -- around their wooden dining room table, talking about how music could complement the poem.

"The poem has a certain journey to it,'' said Shelby, who has played acoustic bass for 23 years. He organized a quartet -- bass, drums, piano, trumpet -- to play the composition. "It has a very visual element to it. It's dynamic. There's movement to it. There is also a historical perspective, primarily in the third stanza. So we had a lot of things to work with.''

Sundaralingam invited fellow poet Jaime Jacinto, who was born in Manila and grew up in the Richmond District, to contribute new poems to the project.

"Pireeni asked me to write something that had to do with the themes of the diaspora, immigration, being uprooted, coming and going,'' said Jacinto, who lives in Fairfax.

Jacinto asked jazz saxophonist Francis Wong, director of Asian American Jazz Festival San Francisco, the city's longest running jazz festival, to choose music to complement his poem, "Just Before Waking."

Wong chose "In a Sentimental Mood," a 1935 song by Duke Ellington, an African American band leader considered one of the greatest jazz composers of all time.

"Francis played the song on a clarinet, rather than a sax,'' Jacinto added. "It's very different on a clarinet -- gorgeous actually. That was part of the collaboration that I really enjoyed, reading and performing with Francis. He is a cultural jewel of San Francisco.''

Vocalist Amy Tobin, who lives in Oakland, was commissioned to set a poem -- "Praise," by Ilya Kaminsky, a Russian emigre now living in San Francisco - - to music.

Kaminsky, born in Odessa in what is now the Ukraine, arrived in the United States in 1993, when he was 16, after his family received asylum from the government.

In "Praise," he wrote: "I was born in the city named after Odysseus/and I praise no nation/to the rhythm of snow/an immigrant's clumsy phrases/fall into speech."

Tobin, who sings those words on "Bridge Across the Blue," said she has never met Kaminsky -- they collaborated by e-mail for the project -- but feels a connection nevertheless.

"I'm a fourth generation Jewish American,'' said Tobin, who is known for her songs about Jewish mythological figures such as Esther and Lilith. "Part of my education and legacy in this country has been about Russian emigres coming to this country." On the album, Tobin shares the vocals on "Praise" with Andrew Chaikin, a San Francisco voice actor and beat boxer, who recites some stanzas.

"The lyrics I chose to set to music from Ilya's poem were the ones that moved me the most,'' Tobin said. "What I'm singing is history and memory and emotion. We knew we needed a male voice for the spoken part. Andrew provides a very present, distinct, male, adult quality to the poem."

"The lyrics I chose to set to music from Ilya's poem were the ones that moved me the most,'' Tobin said. "What I'm singing is history and memory and emotion. We knew we needed a male voice for the spoken part. Andrew provides a very present, distinct, male, adult quality to the poem."

Ó Laoire sang, in Irish, a lament said to have been written in the 19th century by an Irishman awaiting his hanging in America. The song expresses his feeling that he has been unjustly treated in America and his longing for home.

Perea sang, in Lakota, a love song written from the perspective of a young man about to leave his tribe for a boarding school run by whites to "civilize" Indians. "Take this picture and remember me by it, for I am going away and may never return,'' he sings.

"We thought the songs might work together,'' Ó Riain recalled. "We picked up on a musical resonance. It was just a hunch. We asked them if they would be willing to do it together.''

In the recording studio, the singers stood facing each other across the room. Neither wore headphones. They sang their songs, a cappella, sometimes singing alone, other times singing at the same time, their voices, languages and melodies gently intertwining.

"They simply watched each other as they sang,'' Sundaralingam said, still sounding awed by the memory. "They had no conductor, no written score.''

Ó Riain said the singers had clearly formed an instant bond. "I wouldn't be surprised if they don't do more work together,'' he said of Perea, who lives in Noe Valley, and of Ó Laoire, who lives in Los Angeles. Turning toward his wife, he added: "They've been e-mailing each other back and forth."

At that news, Sundaralingam, her expressive face framed by dark curly hair, smiled, saying with quiet pride and satisfaction: "That's how community spreads."