Aiming To Satisfy By Giving Voice To His Tragedy

Posted: February 14, 1997

Musicians, like humans in general, deal with pain in different ways.

Both singer Jon Lucien and saxophonist Wayne Shorter lost people they loved in the explosion of TWA Flight 800 in July off Long Island. Lucien's 17-year-old daughter, Dalila, was killed in the crash; Shorter's wife, Ana Maria, also was among the victims. (The two men are friends, and the two women were aunt and niece - Lucien's ex-wife was Ana Maria Shorter's sister.)

Some reviews of Shorter's first performances after the tragedy described the saxophonist's music as ``angry.'' Understandable, for sure. But Lucien chose, after the tears, to smile again.

``There is no anger in my music,'' Lucien said via phone from his home near the beach in Gurabo, Puerto Rico, before his sextet's nearly sold-out shows tonight in the Peco Energy Jazz Festival. ``Sure, I have a lot of reasons to be angry, but it would kill me if I spent a lot of time angry. It's the same as frowning. What good is that going to do? So I smile.''

The deep-voiced Lucien is a favorite among women for his suave Caribbean- and Latin-inspired love songs like ``Rashida'' and ``Dindi.'' And tonight at the Sheraton Society Hill, ``we'll just do what we always aim to do,'' he said, ``and that's satisfy.''

The 55-year-old native of the Virgin Islands had kept a low profile in the '80s and early '90s as he recovered from drug and health problems. (Lucien said the stress of his daughter's death contributed to a recent loss of sight in his right eye.)

He recently signed with Shanachie Records, for which he just finished recording a new CD last month. The as-yet-untitled disc will be his first in more than four years.

The last couple of years, he's done guest spots on recordings by an array of performers, including singer Nnenna Freelon and bassist Charles Fambrough.

And as part of his daily routine, the multi-instrumentalist sits at the piano in his airy home and speaks to Dalila, whose picture is at the heart of a tiny memorial surrounded by water and candles.

``She is music to me,'' Lucien said. ``I look at her, and we talk, and I play, and I write.''

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