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I was one night in April 1955 in a small concert hall in Detroit, Michigan, USA. On stage, a jazz band made up exclusively of black musicians delighted the audience completely delivered. The trumpet notes popped one gin and tonic while my glass was falling in every sip. I could see the curtains harmonic described by the piano, drums and bass while a railway line marked rhythm, a base that ranged from swing to bebop with an ease comparable to that of a river that suddenly draws a sharp bend in its course.

gradually approaching the end of the piece. In that instant, the trumpeter, one David Miles, grabbed a glass of water that had been drinking all night and threw him to the ground with unprecedented fury. There was a silence. Other musicians stayed completely still, as a sculptural group, while their leader kept a furious stare into the audience, composed entirely of whites.

"You who live comfortably in the homes of movie, you have no trouble making ends meet, you laugh at the black every day, segregáis my race, a race even more americana que la vuestra, pues nosotros llevamos siglos trabajando vuestras tierras mientras los blancos os dedicáis a rezongar en el sofá o en cualquier tasca. Ahora que habéis descubierto nuestra música y tratáis de imitarla inútilmente nos negáis acceder a los locales donde vamos a actuar por la puerta principal, nos cobráis por un mísero vaso de agua y nos ofrecéis unos honorarios de mierda comparados con los ingresos que recibís por cada concierto que ofrecemos. Nosotros somos el Black Power y nuestra gente se identifica con nuestra música, el jazz en todo su ámbito, porque ven en ella la furia contenida bajo nuestra oscura piel tras tanto tiempo de desidia hacia nosotros. No defendemos la violencia, sólo we want equality. "

on the street could hear the sound coming from a police siren. It was clear that someone had warned. However, none of the musicians tried to flee. The owner of the gambling den, hidden behind the bar, fearful of what might happen, he quickly phoned the cops, but nobody made a single violent act, no one raised a fist and waved an insult. Outside, a crowd of blacks at the door swirled concerned about what might happen to their idol. The police broke with his usual rudeness as everyone watched what happened stunned around us. handcuffed the whole band and took them out of the room in a blink of an eye. Outside, the crowd shouted exalted and clearly heard shots in the air of the riot.

I rose from my site without completing the gin and tonic and I joined my fellow blacks.