The Great Elephant Migration Boston – August 25, 2026

We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals.

— Henry Beston, The Outermost House

I went to Commonwealth Avenue expecting an art installation and left feeling like I’d crashed a family reunion. The Great Elephant Migration is a traveling public-art and conservation project bringing 100 life-size elephant sculptures to the Mall from August 8 through September 13, 2026. It’s delivered by Elephant Family USA, a nonprofit initiative of Coexistence Story Inc., in support of human-wildlife coexistence and conservation work around the world. But none of that description quite prepares you for actually walking into the herd.

These aren’t imaginary elephants. Each sculpture is modeled on a real elephants living in the wild, mostly in the Nilgiri Hills of southern India, and each carries its own name. Wandering the Boston herd, I met Anya, Eshan, Krishna, Mayflower, Palash, Tara, Pavan, and dozens more. Their ages, sizes, postures, all the small physical quirks that make an animal individual, were carried over into the sculpture. It stopped feeling like a display and started feeling like being part of the family.

They’re handmade from Lantana camara, an invasive plant that’s overrun huge stretches of Indian forest, woven around steel frames. About 300 Indigenous artisans, people from various communities, who’ve lived beside wild elephants for generations, build them by hand. Knowing that changes how I looked at the surface of each sculpture, and I was astounded by the skillful work and dedication to this important project.

There’s something satisfying, too, in how the materials enhance the win for all involved. Lantana crowds out native plants and degrades habitat, so clearing it helps the forest even before a single sculpture gets built. Then the invasive plant becomes art, the art becomes income for the artisans, and the finished elephants raise money and awareness for the conservation work that started the whole cycle. It’s the rare project where every aspect of the venture is doing something good.

The sculptures are also for sale. Proceeds go back into conservation, and the prices track their size in a way I found oddly moving: calves at $8,500, adolescents at $14,500, matriarchs at $18,000, and the great tuskers at $22,500. A calf stands about 3½ feet and weighs around 40 kilograms; a matriarch can reach eight feet, stretch 12 feet long, and weigh around 250 kilograms. Many of the Boston elephants are already spoken for, while the calves are sold out!

I felt that knowing a little about elephants made the experience richer. They live in tight-knit social worlds, keep close family bonds, and recognize huge numbers of other individuals. They talk to each other in trumpets and rumbles, and in low-frequency sounds that travel much farther, picking up vibrations through the ground with their feet and trunks. Their trunks alone are remarkable tools: strong enough to uproot a tree, gentle enough to turn over something tiny.

They comfort each other when they’re distressed, remember individuals and places for years, and linger, almost mournfully, near the remains of elephants who’ve died. Their famous “memory” isn’t just a nice phrase; it’s survival equipment, holding the location of water, the route of a migration, the identity of a friend or a danger.

So walking through the herd wasn’t like walking past a hundred copies of the same animal. It felt more like meeting a hundred individuals who happen to belong to the same big, close family, which was, for me,  a small reminder that wildlife isn’t really made of “populations,” but it’s made of specific lives with specific histories, same as us.

What I loved most is that nothing stood between the herd and me. I could walk right up to the huge adults, find a calf tucked in beside its mother, get close enough to see the weave of the lantana, and look them straight in the eye. Arriving at the exhibit felt as if I stumbled into a gathering already in progress.

I loved witching the kids, as they weaved their way between the sculptures, ran their hands over the rough surfaces, reached for trunks, posed next to calves, craned their necks up at the tuskers like they were meeting giants. A six-year-old girl showed up with her mother and sister, notebook in hand, and after making her way through the herd she sat on the ground and began to draw them. A father with a two- and a five-year-old joked that his kids were “probably not going to let us leave.” I photographed a little girl talking to and feeding one of the creatures. More than one adult just stopped mid-stride, caught off guard by the sight of a herd of elephants standing in the middle of a city street.

What stayed with me was how naturally that all unfolded — delight first, then curiosity, then something closer to real care. None of the kids I watched needed to know anything about conservation, or invasive lantana, or the artisans who’d spent hours on each sculpture. They just ran between the elephants, picked their favorites, and talked to them as if they were school friends. The facts might come later. The kids best demonstrated the quiet genius of the whole project, which doesn’t lead with a lesson. It lets you fall for something first, and trusts that the caring will follow.

As I think back to the experience I’m moved by how this  impressive piece of public art has turned an ordinary city street into a place where people and animals just belonged together. I think the kids understood that before any of the adults did. They spontaneously walked up, touched, wondered. It’s a good thing to be reminded of, especially with everything we’re told to worry about when it comes to the natural world: the facts can wait. The feeling comes first.

July 27. 2026 – Tribute to Abdullah Ibrahim

When time and space and change converge, we find place. We arrive in Place when we resolve things. Place is peace of mind and understanding. Place is knowledge of self. Place is resolution. -Abdullah Ibrahim

Dear Friends,

This week’s Next to Silence is a tribute to Abdullah Ibrahim, one of the great voices in jazz. His music carried the sound of South Africa, blending jazz, African traditions, spirituality, and quiet reflection into something unmistakably his own. Abdullah Ibrahim. Who early in career called himself Dollar Brand,  died on June 15, 2026, after a short illness at the age of 91, leaving behind a body of work that continues to inspire musicians and listeners around the world. For the next 90 minutes, we’ll spend some time with that remarkable music and remember an artist whose music always invited us to listen a little more deeply.

This show barely scratches the surface of this wonderful body of work, and will be presented in chronological order.

Radiation Therapy Soundtrack

One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain. — Bob Marley

For 28 days I went in for radiation treatment, and each day I was allowed to choose the music that played while I was on the table. It was a small choice in a process where most things had already been decided for me. I didn’t choose these pieces because they were comforting or inspirational, although some were. I chose music I wanted to be with for those few minutes—music that carried memories, demanded attention, brought me joy, or simply sounded right in that strange room with that machine moving around me. This is the music I brought with me.

But I wasn’t alone with the music. Every day there were the wonderful radiation technicians who greeted me, got me positioned, ran the machinery, and somehow made a very strange thing begin to feel almost ordinary. I came to think of them as friends and actually looked forward to seeing them. There was humor, smiles, conversation, and there was a warmth that had nothing to do with the technology surrounding us. I can’t remember another time when I felt so well cared for by people I had only just met. Of all the things they said to me, the one I may remember longest is, “Would you like a warm blanket?” Such a small kindness, but it came to stand for the whole experience: someone was paying attention to whether I was comfortable.

So I am posting these pieces as an example of what we bring with us when we have to go through something we would never have chosen. I brought music, but I also brought my life contained in songs I had listened to for decades, all those ordinary days that had somehow accumulated into a life. And then something unexpected happened: the people caring for me became part of what I brought into that room. Their kindness and good humor became part of the soundtrack.

Cancer was now part of my life, but it wasn’t the whole story. And I don’t know if I’ll ever again have the experience of such wonderful women cheerfully telling me to pull down my pants.

July 13, 2024 – Tribute to Sonny Rollins

Dear Friends,

For more than seventy years, the legendary jazz saxophonist Sonny Rollins followed his own path—restlessly searching, listening, practicing, and creating some of the most powerful and joyful music ever recorded. From hard bop to calypso, from intimate ballads to fearless improvisations, his music was always alive, always searching.

This  program pays tribute to Sonny Rollins who passed away at his home in Woodstock, New York on May 25, 2026, at the age of 95. 

Playlist for the week of June 13, 2026:

Oleo — Miles Davis

The Way You Look Tonight — Thelonious Monk, Sonny Rollins

Airegin — Miles Davis, Sonny Rollins, Horace Silver, Kenny Clarke, Percy Heath

Tenor Madness — Sonny Rollins Quartet, John Coltrane

St. Thomas — Sonny Rollins

Blue 7 — Sonny Rollins

I’m an Old Cowhand — Sonny Rollins

There Is No Greater Love — Sonny Rollins

Valse Hot — Sonny Rollins

All the Things You Are — Sonny Rollins, Coleman Hawkins

Without a Song — Sonny Rollins

A Reminder:

The schedule for NEXT TO SILENCE has changed. It streams live at 1700AM and on the web at peaksislandradio.com on

Mondays @7:00PM

Tuesdays @Noon & 8:30PM

Sundays @9:30AM

You can stream past shows at any time.

Click on Schedule. Open NEXT TO SILENCE

And you will find a treasure trove of great music.

You can also listen to the show here at anytime: TRIBUTE TO SONNY ROLLINS

Thanks for listening,

Dave

July 7, 2026 – The Concert for Bangladesh

Dear Friends,

The Concert for Bangladesh was a groundbreaking benefit concert held on August 1, 1971, at Madison Square Garden. Organized by George Harrison and Ravi Shankar, it was created to raise money and international awareness for the humanitarian crisis caused by war, famine, and millions of refugees fleeing what was then East Pakistan during the struggle that led to the creation of Bangladesh. The concerts featured an extraordinary lineup, including Bob Dylan, Ringo Starr, Eric Clapton, Billy Preston, and Leon Russell. Widely regarded as the first major rock charity concert, it established the model for later benefit events such as Live Aid and demonstrated the power of popular music as a force for humanitarian action.

Today on Next To Silence, I’d like to do something a little different and share The Concert for Bangladesh almost in its entirety, with judicious edits to fit in the show’s 90 minute time slot.

NOTICE:

The schedule for NEXT TO SILENCE has changed. It streams live at 1700AM and on the web at peaksislandradio.com on

Mondays @7:00PM

Tuesdays @Noon & 8:30PM

Sundays @9:30AM

You can stream past shows at any time.

Go to PeaksIslandRadio.com

Click on Schedule. Open NEXT TO SILENCE

And you will find a treasure trove of great music.

Playlist: for the week of July 6, 2026

“Introduction by George Harrison & Ravi Shankar” — George Harrison, Ravi Shankar

“Bangla Dhun” — Ravi Shankar, Ali Akbar Khan, Alla Rakha, Kamala Chakravarty

“Wah-Wah” — George Harrison

“My Sweet Lord” — George Harrison

“Awaiting on You All” — George Harrison

“That’s the Way God Planned It” — Billy Preston

“It Don’t Come Easy” — Ringo Starr

“Band Introduction” — George Harrison

“While My Guitar Gently Weeps” — George Harrison

“Jumpin’ Jack Flash / Young Blood” — Leon Russell

“Here Comes the Sun” — George Harrison

“A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” — Bob Dylan

“Blowin’ in the Wind” — Bob Dylan

“Mr. Tambourine Man” — Bob Dylan

“It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry” — Bob Dylan

“Love Minus Zero/No Limit” — Bob Dylan

“Something” — George Harrison

“Bangla Desh” — George Harrison

“Beware of Darkness” — George Harrison, Leon Russell

Queer Africa – A Celebration of LGBTQ+ Artists from Africa

This show celebrates Pride Month with Queer Africa. I’ll be playing courageous artists who have come out, often at great personal risk, as they speak out against The Persecution of LGBTQ+ Individuals in Africa.

My intention is to bring an awareness of of the music from these creative artists in Africa’s LGBTQ+ community. There were limitations in what I’m able to play on the radio because many of the tunes from these artists are quite graphic with uncompromising language.

In many African countries, same-sex relationships remain criminalized, often under laws inherited from colonial powers. In some places, governments have intensified anti-LGBTQ rhetoric in recent years.

Some examples include:

  • Uganda, which enacted one of the world’s harshest anti-LGBTQ laws in 2023.
  • Nigeria, where same-sex relationships are criminalized and public advocacy can be restricted.
  • Ghana, where anti-LGBTQ legislation has been politically contentious.
  • Senegal and Tanzania, where public attitudes tend to be strongly conservative.

Political leaders sometimes frame LGBTQ rights as a foreign or Western imposition, despite historical evidence that diverse sexualities and gender expressions existed in many African societies long before European colonization.

The courage of LGBTQ recording artists in many African countries goes beyond simply being “out.” For some, making music itself becomes an act of resistance, visibility, and personal risk.

They often face real consequences

Depending on the country, queer artists may encounter:

  • Threats and harassment, both online and in person.
  • Rejection by family, religious communities, or their home communities.
  • Difficulty finding venues, radio play, or record labels.
  • Censorship or cancellation of performances.
  • Risk of arrest or legal scrutiny in countries with anti-LGBTQ laws.
  • Pressure to remain closeted in order to have a successful career.

For these artists, releasing a song about same-sex love or appearing openly queer can be a profoundly courageous act.

To my LGBTQ+ listeners, and to everyone who has ever felt unseen, misunderstood, or outside the expected story, I hope this music has offered not just great songs, but a sense of fellowship. Your experiences, your stories, and your ways of loving and being in the world have always been part of the human story, and they continue to enrich it.