For Jamael Dean, prodigy pianist and grandson of legendary jazz drummer Donald Dean, May 2, 2024, was just another gig, another performance, another chance to help cover rent that had suddenly spiked by hundreds of dollars.
In a familiar theatre, with no setlist, no script, he sat perched at the grand piano at 2220 Arts + Archives in Los Angeles, unsure of what might come. What followed was an hour-long improvisation that became “Oriki Duuru,” his latest album, dropping May 9 via Stones Throw Records.
Dean, a Bakersfield-born jazz pianist and the youngest of ten siblings, was introduced to music early. By eight, he was playing both piano and violin. But when he entered a performing arts high school, he dropped the violin to focus solely on piano.
“I loved how vast the instrument was, how percussive it could be,” he says. “It plays a lot of different roles at one time.
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“I used to spend every summer at my grandpa’s house,” Dean recalls, speaking about his grandfather, Donald Dean, the iconic jazz drummer best known for his work on “Swiss Movement” with Les McCann and Eddie Harris. “He’d be playing around, and I’d follow him to gigs and stuff.”
One day, Donald invited over saxophonist Charlie Owens, “Uncle Charlie,” as Jamael calls him, one of the elder statesmen of L.A.’s jazz scene. Still on violin at the time, Dean was asked to join in.
“They had me bring out my violin and just start improvising,” Dean says. “He would play something, and I would mimic it, then try to add an inflection. That was one of my first introductions into improvisation.”
As Jamael transitioned from violin to piano, his grandfather continued to shape his musical development. “He used to challenge me to learn songs like ‘Giant Steps’ or ‘Seven Steps to Heaven.’” Both are landmark jazz compositions, celebrated for their complexity and improvisational demands.
“I remember one of the first songs I played was ‘Ruby, My Dear.’ That was because of my grandfather,” Dean says. “He’s definitely one of my biggest influences.”
Those early moments of studying and exploration laid the groundwork for a musical philosophy Dean carries to this day.
“Spontaneity plays a huge role in life,” he explains. “To get better at improvising in general is key to living a more balanced life,” he says. “Whatever decision we make, the consequences are our own.”
Reflecting on the performance that became “Oriki Duuru,” Dean says, “I didn’t have any clue what songs I was going to play,” remembering the moment his fingers first touched the ivory and black keys. “
At the time, I had just been engaged, and that didn’t really work out,” he admits. “It wasn’t necessarily the happiest time.” His former partner was in the audience that night at 2220, and the emotions were close to the surface. “I was just playing how I felt,” he says.
He began the set with “Eledumare,” a regional spelling of “Olódùmarè,” a Yoruba term for the creator.
“I figured if I started in that place, it would be good and make sense. That’s the cool thing about the piano. You get to let stuff out that you don’t necessarily want to verbalize.” That unspoken expression became “Oriki Duuru,” named after the Yoruba word for a prayer or poem, a nod to Dean’s heritage and the spirit behind the set.
Unlike his previous work with artists like André 3000, Thundercat, and Kamasi Washington, “Oriki Duuru” strips everything down to just Dean and the piano. The weight of that night, the silence between the notes, and the vulnerability of the moment elevated the performance into something more than a concert; it became a prayer, a spiritual offering.
“Oriki Duuru” arrives May 9 via Stones Throw. Connect with Jamael on Instagram @jamael_dean to follow his musical journey.
