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Alvaro Uribe is found guilty of witness tampering and procedural fraud, reports NICK MACWILLIAM
Echoes howling in the mist
Buddy Tate
The Texas Tenor
(Storyville 1038438)
On the anniversary of the implementation of the 1833 Slavery Abolition Act, ROGER McKENZIE warns that the legacy of black enslavement still looms in the Caribbean and beyond
Starmer’s decision to recognise Palestine only as long as Israel continues to massacre its inhabitants has been met with outrage, writes LINDA PENTZ GUNTER
The creative imagination is a weapon against barbarism, writes KENNY COYLE, who is a keynote speaker at the Manifesto Press conference, Art in the Age of Degenerative Capitalism, tomorrow at the Marx Memorial Library & Workers School in London
RAMZY BAROUD explains why the world can no longer ignore Palestine
Starmer’s decision to suspend Diane Abbott yet again demonstrates a determination to maintain and propagate a hierarchy of racism, writes CLAUDIA WEBBE
THE last time that I heard him play his tenor saxophone was in 1975 on the grassy slopes in front of Ally Pally, where on a baking summer afternoon his golden horn whirled in joy and beauty.
He came from that swooping, howling, gushing tradition of Texas tenor stalwarts, the same tradition that produced James Clay and David “Fathead” Newman of Corsicana and Arnett Cobb of Houston.
Except that Buddy Tate (born in Sherman, Texas in 1913) had another great jazz element implanted within him: the seed of relentless swing.
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