John Coltrane With Eric Dolphy: Evenings at the Village Gate

To hear some critics, with their infinite reservoirs of wisdom, tell it in 1961, the inclusion of the masterful multi-instrumentalist and composer Eric Dolphy in John Coltrane's band was a blasphemy against jazz.  The Los Angeles native wrote and played in unconventional and highly distinctive ways and to those unimpressed ears, his work was harsh, noisy, dissonant and not tonal enough.  

Not unlike those who could not wrap their heads (ears) around other great innovators of the era, whether it was Ornette Coleman, Cecil Taylor or others, these critics were also generally unhappy with Coltrane's move into more experimental territory after he left Atlantic Records to join the upstart Impulse! label, where among his first recordings were the amazing performances from November 1961 at the Village Vanguard in New York City.

The album released early in 1962 with three tracks "Spiritual," "Softly, As In a Morning Sunrise," and the astounding "Chasin' the Trane" were divisive among many so-called experts, who decried the leader's explorations into the varieties of sound generated by his soprano and tenor saxophone playing.  Dolphy played bass clarinet on "Spiritual" and did so on "India" when that tune and "Impressions" appeared on the 1963 release titled after the latter.  In 1997, however, a 4-disc set of the complete Village Vanguard recordings provided devotees with an aural feast with Dolphy and Trane joined by pianist McCoy Tyner, drummer Elvin Jones, and bassists Reggie Workman (the sole survivor of these recordings and now 86 years old) and Jimmy Garrison.

A fascinating complement to these recordings is Evenings at the Village Gate, released last year after the tapes, recorded by engineer Rich Alderson with the venue's new sound system, were discovered at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts by an archivist working on Bob Dylan recordings, as the folk artist was recorded at the Village Gate that year, as well.  These tapes were from August 1961, but with the same sextet format and with Art Davis as the other bassist.

Coltrane and Dolphy famously issued a published answer to the naysayers in Down Beat magazine, but this album and the Vanguard tracks should suffice in hindsight because Trane's observation that Dolphy broadened the band's sound as well as freed its musicians to take the music in new directions is on the mark.  All that critical angst is a reminder that innovators have to be allowed to pursue their passion for finding new ways to express themselves and those wedded to "tradition" shouldn't stand in the way or criticize honest and authentic artistic endeavor.

These pieces range from 10 to 22 minutes allowing the band to explore at a comfortable and organic pace and for soloists to take their showcases wherever they need to go.  The hit "My Favorite Things," which would be reprocessed into much freer territory in subsequent years, "Impressions," and, especially, "Africa," long a favorite of this listener, are especially impressive, while "Greensleeves," part of Trane's repertoire at the time is also taken to new levels of expression.  The surprise here, perhaps, is "When Lights Are Low," in which the 1930s chestnut sounds somewhat out of place on one hand, but, on the other, shows what innovators can do to both respect and expand upon tradition.

Sadly, Dolphy died in 1964 at age 36 after falling into a diabetic coma and a 9-disc box set of his complete Prestige recordings is a phenomenal document of his underappreciated career.  Coltrane went on to greater success, peaking with the transformative A Love Supreme, but was soon stricken with liver cancer from which he died at age 40 in 1967.  These two giants, criticized as they were in 1961, left behind some of the greatest music ever produced and this is a great document to show that.

John Coltrane: My Favorite Things

In 1990, when it was decided to explore jazz beyond the few recordings heard from the great Miles Davis, the two names that came up when figuring who to hear were the amazing Ornette Coleman and John Coltrane.  As much as Coleman astounded with his unusual approaches to harmony and time, hearing My Favorite Things, particularly its widely known title track in which the leader's soprano sax, rarely heard in those days, was a revelation.  As great as that tune is, there are also the exceptional covers of "Summertime," "Everytime We Say Goodbye," and "But Not For Me."  While I bought a number of Ornette albums at that time, I became obsessed with Trane and acquired as many recordings as my pocketbook would allow.

It wasn't until I acquired the box set, the strangely named The Heavyweight Champion: John Coltrane, The Complete Atlantic Recordings that the realization hit that there were just six days between 21-26 October 1960 when the saxophonist and his band of McCoy Tyner (who just left us in March) on piano, drummer Elvin Jones and bassist Steve Davis (Tyner's brother-in-law and a largely unknown figure) churned out almost two dozen songs that included those on My Favorite Things, released in March 1961, as well as pieces for Coltrane Jazz, which came out just a month prior, Coltrane Plays the Blues, issued in July 1962, and Coltrane's Sound, released in June 1964—the latter two hitting the shops well after Trane signed with Impulse and took his music to another level of brilliance.  That was a remarkable week, with the peak being the quartet of classic renderings on this still-astounding album.

John Coltrane: Crescent

It's hard to argue with the oft-stated view that the pinnacle of the amazing John Coltrane's recorded work came with two classic albums recorded in 1964.  At the end of the year was the masterpiece A Love Supreme, covered here previously.  Earlier was the majestic Crescent, recorded on 27 April and 1 June, and reflecting the telepathic relationship of the leader with his remarkable band members, including pianist McCoy Tyner, drummer Elvin Jones, and bassist Jimmy Garrison.

The record is built around three pieces showing a highly reflecting, ruminative and meditative side to Coltrane that had been heard before but reached its apex on this album.  Trane's solos are phenomenal, as are those of Tyner, and the rhythm section of Garrison and Jones hold everything together for the soloists to build from.

The title piece is driven by the leader's keening and emotive statement of the gorgeous melody with Tyner accompanying simply but beautifully, while Jones employs long rolls and uses splashes of cymbals to great effect.  After about a minute and a half, a steady rhythm ensues and Coltrane soloes with economy and emotion, though there are moments where he employs overtones and cycles of repetitive notes that hint at the freer forms he moved into the next year.

"Wise One" starts with a gorgeous opening by Tyner before Coltrane comes in with a mournful and memorable melody accompanied by Jones' exclusive and excellent use of cymbal patterns.  At about three minutes in, a Latin-like rhythmic pattern comes in and Tyner soloes sensationally by keeping things simple and subdued.  At 4:45 or so, Coltrane comes in with perfect timing and keeps the mood Tyner had established--for a while.  He builds up gradually and increases the speed and intensity over his solo, while Jones focuses mainly on the cymbals for his rhythm, rather than the bass drum or snare.  Garrison, all the while, holds down the bottom end solidly and basically.

"Bessie's Blues" can be heard as an aberration, being a playful midtempo blues with a sparkling Tyner solo being the highlight and Coltrane using some overtones on his solo while Tyner lays out, but it might also be thought of as a nice break between the subdued, but substantial and sublime tracks that form the core of the album.

The third piece of that core is the lengthier and pretty "Lonnie's Lament," where Coltrane states the theme to Tyner's impressive filigreed backing and more of Jones' fine cymbal touches before the band comes in to a steady rhythm, highlighted by Garrison's stronger presence here than on portions of the album.

Tyner soloes first and is wonderfully restrained with his notes cascading sometimes like raindrops (you can almost imagine a scene in which it is raining while the song is playing) and other times his trademark block chords drive his work.  It is really a spectacular piece of work from one of the great pianists in jazz and who was truly coming into his own at age 26 as a leader as well as Coltrane's sideman.

A little after six minutes, Garrison comes in for his only solo of the record.  It's become commonplace for people to groan whenever a jazz bassist soloes, which is really a shame, because Garrison was one of the best.  His playing is always of interest in terms of dynamics, tone, strength and melodic statement.  This performance is a reminder of his immense talent.

Towards the end, Trane comes in to restate the theme and take the piece out--a generous display by the leader to allow two of his compatriots the opportunity to show the best of their art.

Which leads to the showcase for the third of his band members:  the closer is a Jones highlight called, naturally, "The Drum Thing,"  Notably, though, this track isn't just a centerpiece of the speed and power for which Jones was justly famed, but because his polyrhythmic skills are displayed fully here.

Jones starts off with a muted rumble of his drums and Garrison playing a simple twice-repeated riff of the same note while Trane plays a simple melody that is attractive on its own terms.  Then, the masterful drummer launches into his staggering solo, thundering, rumbling, pounding with total discipline and yet sounding like several percussionists at the same time.  It's not that there aren't plenty of other masterful solos in Jones' recorded catalog, but this one has a sense of restraint even amongst the power, speed and intensity that sets it apart.  This is a great close to a fantastic album.

Amazingly, the Coltrane quartet came back at the end of 1964 with something even better.  The fact that A Love Supreme was released not long after Crescent has, perhaps, overshadowed the latter.  However, Crescent is a landmark album and was something of an encapsulation and summation of what made the Quartet such a special band.  This was perfected on A Love Supreme but that shouldn't diminish the achievement of its predecessor.

The photo of Coltrane is from the 8-disc The Classic Quartet—Complete Impulse! Studio Recordings set issued in 1998.

Sonny Rollins: A Night at the Village Vanguard (Complete)

As a composer of some of the best-known hard bop tunes of the middle and later 1950s and, especially, as an improviser with immense technical skill and creatively fresh approaches to harmony and melody, Sonny Rollins was in a class all by himself.  From his early work with such luminaries as Thelonious Monk, Max Roach and Miles Davis, to his first solo records, including the 1956 album Saxophone Colossus and the amazing Way Out West and then his courageous Freedom Suite, Rollins created one of the great bodies of work of the era.

For a variety of personal and professional reasons, Rollins quite suddenly withdrew from the scene in the early 1960s and was never quite the same in terms of recognition and accolades, compared to, say, John Coltrane, perhaps because jazz transformed so radically during that decade.  Yet, all these years later, the master is still very active, regularly touring and recording, generally to much acclaim.

But, if jazz is largely built on the framework of what is experienced in the live setting, then Rollins' 1957 recording of sets at the famed Village Vanguard club in New York, his first as a leader, really set a standard for how concert performances were to be recorded and regarded.  The first track featured the little-known Donald Bailey on bass and the somewhat under-appreciated drummer Pete La Roca (who worked with Coltrane for a time) and is an interesting version of the great bebop standard, "A Night in Tunisia."

But, with the tremendous rhythm section of bassist Wilbur Ware (known for his work with Monk) and drummer Elvin Jones, who really got his first serious attention as a result of this gig and went on to be Coltrane's poly-rhythmic dynamo, this album really took off.

With the complete two-disc version, released by Blue Note in 1999, a total of eighteen pieces showcase the greatness of this small combo, as Ware and Jones were supremely effective sidemen and Rollins came into his own as an improviser of amazing facility and invention (as well as a charming host introducing some of the songs in the coolest way possible.)

Highlights are so numerous, it's hard to pinpoint some over others, whether it is the evening take of "A Night in Tunisia," the excellent "Softly as in a Morning Sunrise," the surprising use of the old chestnut, "Get Happy," Miles Davis' "Four," Rollins' own masterpiece, "Sonnymoon for Two," or other standards like "I Can't Get Started," Cole Porter's "I've Got You Under My Skin," or Hammerstein and Kern's "All the Things You Are."

It's amazing to hear Rollins work his way through complex, powerful, inventive and alternately humorous and clever and then heartbreaking and serious soloing with what seems to be the most effortless ways imaginable.

Then, to have the solidly reliable and pliable Ware and the emerging force of nature that Elvin Jones was on his way to becoming as his bedrock, it's no small wonder that A Night at the Village Vanguard, presented here in the original sequence and with the leader's intros, is one of the great live recordings of jazz and a signal achievement for Rollins, one of its greatest musicians.

Andrew Hill: Judgment!

A very under-appreciated pianist and composer, Andrew Hill released a string of excellent recordings for Blue Note in the mid to late 1960s, one of which, the superb Point of Departure has already been highlighted here.

Judgment! was recorded just prior to that album, in early January 1964, and, while it may be more low key, due to the absence of a front-line horn and the use of a vibraphone as a featured solo album, this recording is just as remarkable in highlighting Hill's distinctive composing style, uniformly excellent playing and the amazing band chosen for the album.

It's hard to imagine a better rhythm section at the time than the always-steady and full-sounding bass of the great Richard Davis, another player who has never quite received the recognition he deserves, and the exciting and complex poly-rhythms of the masterful Elvin Jones on drums.

Moreover, in a significant way, the tremendous performance by Bobby Hutcherson on vibes is an additional rhythmic instrument, due to the light percussive sound it provides.  Hutcherson, though, also used his instrument for ambiance and was a masterful soloist, as well.

Hill's composing wasn't known for extremes in ways that other so-called "free" or "avant-garde" stalwarts were, but his subtle experiments with time, harmony and rhythm are, with some dedicated listening, obvious and stunning.

This comes to the fore immediately with the standout "Siete Ocho," a nine-minute masterpiece, the title of which happens to refer to the time signature of 7/8.  The playing is just impressive, starting with Hutcherson's vibes and including Hill's always-absorbing solo work as well as a nice short solo by Davis and a typically explosive excursion on the traps by Jones.

"Flea Flop" was titled by Hill because of the "jumping flea" quality of the melody and has a long and exemplary solo by the leader, some powerful soloing by Jones and Hutcherson's shimmering and echoed vibes providing a strong grounding for the piece.

"Senseless dialogue between people" is how the sing-song melody of "Yokada Yokada" is characterized in its dissonant dueting between the vibes and piano, before Hill unleashes another incredibly understated and brilliant solo that is more directly blues-connected than usual for the leader.

A tribute to the founder and long-time executive of Blue Note, Alfred Lion, "Alfred" is a lush, lyrical and gorgeous ballad that gives Hutcherson an opportunity to shine in soloing and atmospheric accompaniment, while Davis plays beautifully in the upper register and Jones, who was not given as much praise for his brush work as he should have, provides excellent support work on percussion.  As for Hill, his playing is as lyrical and economical as can be.

The title track was inspired by a poem by Hill's wife, Laverne, based on the biblical verse, John 7: 7, which has the famous admonition about casting stones.  The tune starts with some emphatic snare shots by Jones, who then slides effortlessly into a driving groove that was one of his many trademarks, while the band moves into a typically angular Hill theme.  It's hard to overstate just how fluidly and compactly Hill constructs his solos-he's never flashy, but his technique and ideas are highly advanced.  Again, Davis alternates between higher and lower notes and always seems to be in just the right spot to hold the bottom down, while Jones keeps those poly rhythms moving before putting on another drum solo clinic.  Hutcherson offers another great solo before the track ends--this along with "Siete Ocho" is a centerpiece to the album.

Finally, there is the closing "Reconciliation," which Hill identified as being drawn from the unity and harmony developed by the group in the course of creating this amazing music.  Another interesting and characteristically complex Hill theme is played three times before Davis solos to great effect, demonstrating why he was so in demand, as Hutcherson and Jones engage in excellent interplay behind the bassist.  A notable quality to this tune is the abrupt ending before the theme's last note was to be played.

The mid-90s release on CD also features a fine alternate take of "Yokada Yokada."

Judgment! is a true classic, featuring excellent writing and playing by Hill and amazing support from a special band playing at top form and thriving on the structures and environment given them by the leader.  Point of Departure had the benefit of featuring the great Eric Dolphy, but Judgment! as a more intimate record is, in some ways, more unified and consistent in its conception and playing.  It is a highlight of Hill's extensive discography and one of the great jazz records of its time.

John Coltrane: Live at Birdland

The death of Amiri Baraka (formerly LeRoi Jones) a few days back was a good time to reflect on the remarkable and controversial ferment that erupted in the 1960s over black militancy, so-called free jazz, battles between jazz critics and writers, and a host of other issues.

Just last year, this blogger read Jones' ground-breaking and provocative work, Blues People, which was the first work by a black person to look at the history of jazz music, but also seeking to place that in the context of the history of black Americans as oppressed peoples expressing themselves through a music they created, despite all of the obstacles in their way.  This isn't a place to discuss the book, necessarily, certainly not to review it--there's plenty of material out there to search out for that.

But, whatever one thinks of the man who made a strikingly radical transformation from LeRoi Jones to Amiri Baraka in 1965, after the assassination of Malcolm X and of Medger Evers and other events, and continued to provoke and be the subject of controversy for decades afterward, this seemed a good time to commemorate the man via his contribution to the liner notes of John Coltrane's 1963 album Live at Birdland.

Which album is many things, actually, not always consistently expressed.  For example, while the first half of the record is comprised of three pieces from a performance at the famed New York club on 8 October 1963, the second portion is from three works recorded in the studio in March and November of that year.  The performance at Birdland also captured the return to the classic Coltrane quartet of drummer Elvin Jones, who had spent time in prison on a drug charge.  Finally, the album closed a chapter in Coltrane's career that was marked by critical tumult and a carefully crafted program by Coltrane's savvy producer, Bob Thiele, to blunt the criticism with a trio of recordings.

In essence, the problem was the jazz was changing from years of hard-bop orthodoxy to a freer conception as embodied in the work of Cecil Taylor, Ornette Coleman, Eric Dolphy, Coltrane and others.  Those critics who were aghast at the move (some of whom, in fact, championed bop when it was new in the late 1940s versus the so-called "moldy figs" who had promoted big band and swing) came out forcefully against the "free jazz" musicians. 

In Coltrane's case, he was labeled as promoting "anti-jazz" because the work he was performing in 1961 with Dolphy was a sea change from the hard bop sound that predominated before and which was featured on the Live at the Village Vanguard album and, in particular, the leader's showcase, "Chasin' the Trane," which didn't even feature Dolphy (yet, this sadly underappreciated multi-instrumentalist was put through the wringer nonetheless.)

While Coltrane claimed that the abrupt change in direction that followed 1962's excellent Coltrane recording was due to a faulty reed on his sax and teeth problems, Thiele revealed that he deliberately drew Coltrane towards ballads and more melodic music to counter the raging critics and give the saxophonist a forum for demonstrating his amazing gifts in those settings. 

What followed were collaborations with the legendary Duke Ellington, the smooth, silky singer Johnny Hartman, and an album of standards, simply called Ballads.  These albums are usually bypassed when people talk about Coltrane's body of work, but there is much to recommend them.  This is especially true when hearing how Coltrane accompanies and complements Ellington and Hartman and to hear how truly integrated that classic quartet of Jones, bassist Jimmy Garrison and pianist McCoy Tyner were.  They all proved to be tremendous with ballads and contemplative material, not just with the up-tempo and powerhouse works that the band had been singled out for by those contentious critics.

In any case, Live at Birdland marked the end of that phase, yet provided examples (as really, all Coltrane records had to date, anyway, despite the critical carping) of how the band could really cook and sizzle and then settle into beautiful melodies and mellow moods on a dime.

The record also captured the obvious joy with which Jones expressed himself after leaving federal prison and releasing his pent-up energies (energy never being a problem with the protean percussionist anyway!)  The opener, "Afro-Blue," a concert favorite for Coltrane, but never recorded in the studio, has excellent playing by the leader as well as Tyner and Garrison, but Jones is front and center here, by a country mile.  He thunders, crashes, rolls and roars through this tune like a veritable force of nature. 

While this blogger was flabbergasted by the performance and can vividly remember hearing Jones blasting through the piece when first hearing this tune on vinyl, circa 1990, and, in fact, smiling and appreciatively calling out the drummer's name through virtually the whole thing, it can be readily understood if the playing was too propulsive, too powerful and so overwhelming that it sacrificed the ensemble for the sheer joy and relief of Jones being free to play after months behind bars.

Which is all the reason to be understanding of where Jones was (which, certainly, the band and the audience were) at that moment and appreciate that the performance was, indeed, a reflection of joy and relief.  In any case, it's a wild ride, still raising hair on the back of the neck and bumps on the skin after many listens and almost a quarter century after first hearing.

Then comes "I Want to Talk About You," beautifully played by the ensemble and with Jones sensitively accompanying and not at all playing too hard.  The piece is played almost as per usual (it was another popular repertoire piece for the band) until Coltrane goes off into a phenomenal unaccompanied solo.  This solo, to this listener, is on a par with "Chasin' the Trane," but didn't have the impact and drama of having something like this done the first time, as was the case of the other work.  Still, the performance is terrific, with Coltrane exploring variation and variation and demonstrated masterful technique, invention, and soulfulness.

After these two pieces, "The Promise," another 8-minute tune, doesn't get as much attention, but the theme is excellent and there is a strong swinging accompaniment by the band behind Trane's tenor.  Tyner performs a stellar lengthy solo, anchored by his trademark strong block chords with the left hand, and Jones percolates, keeps strong time with the cymbals, and hums along enthusiastically, while increasing his intensity towards the end to drive things along.  Garrison is steady, as always, holding down the bottom with his usual aplomb.  Then, Trane comes swooping in with his top-flight solo that is thrilling with its higher-end note flourishes and runs (one can hear on this song why the soprano wound up becoming so important to Trane in terms of finding higher notes to play) and, after restating the theme, the band goes out with a flourish.

Of the two studio pieces, "Alabama" is flat-out one of Coltrane's masterpieces.  A solemn remembrance of the horrific Montgomery church bombing the claimed the lives of several young black girls who should have been safe in the sanctuary of a holy place, the piece has a rich and powerful theme, evocative of the thoughtlessness of the terrorist act performed by white supremacists, played over Tyner's simple repetitive phrase and what may be Garrison's bowing on the bass. 

Then, about 1:45 in, the piece transitions to a mid-tempo blues, almost as if suggesting the resilience that the blues has always symbolized in the lives of black Americans.  After another minute, the theme returns and Jones' mallets add weight and dignity to the sound as the tune comes to a close with the tenor taking the ending to higher scales on his instrument and ending the piece beautifully.   Coltrane would further develop the structure of "Alabama" in classic pieces in the great Crescent album and on the masterpiece A Love Supreme during 1964.  But, "Alabama" stands on its own as one of the great pieces in music, period.

"Your Lady" comes in with a nice Garrison line and Jones' always present swinging and "polyrhythms" before Trane's lyrical theme comes in, much like other, somewhat like "The Inch Worm" from the Coltrane album, at least to this listener.  The keening, soaring sound of the tenor is another excellent example of the leader's peerless playing, especially some great runs about 4 minutes in.  And, as always, Jones is there to propel the piece with his driving and penetrating style.

Finally, there is a bonus track on the CD version called "Vilia," a reworking of a standard that seems a little out of place, like "Bessie's Blues" on the otherwise meditative and somber Crescent.  It's bright and it swings, especially during Tyner's fine solo when Garrison and Jones are in a beautiful groove.  After Coltrane solos, the song seems to come to an abrupt end, for which there may have been a reason.  In any case, it's a bonus and that Tyner solo part is quite good.

As for LeRoi Jones, he starts his notes provocatively with, "One of the most baffling things about America is that despite its essentially vile profile, so much beauty continues to exist here."  Jones, as many have done, equates the nightclub as a microcosm of vileness and the playing of a master as the beauty.  And, then Jones offers that "his music is one of the reasons suicide seems so boring!"

It is cool to read Jones describing Elvin's playing as a "mad ritual drama" that taunts the other musicians, as it is that LeRoi "got up and danced while writing these notes, screaming at Elvin to cool it," a sentiment shared to some degree by this blogger, except that asking Elvin to hold back was not among the thoughts.

Jones also utters an unexpected paean to the name of the state of Alabama, observing that "I didn't realize what a beautiful word Alabama is."  Continuing that Thiele asked Coltrane if the title "had any significance to today's problems," the leader didn't address the bombings (which might, perhaps, have opened up to further critical commentary?) with directness, stating that "it represents, musically, something that I saw down there translated into music from inside me."

Finally, Jones does not that, actually, "all the music on this album is Live, whether it was recorded above drinking and talk at Birdland, [or] in the studio," which is true, except, perhaps, that the atmosphere in each are entirely different and the results could be accordingly.  But, the essayist concludes in another cool evocation:  "this music will make you think of a lot of weird and wonderful things.  You might even become one of them."

Amen to that and may LeRoi Jones/Amiri Baraka, for all of the controversy and the directness and the penetration and the evocation, rest in peace.  Whatever one thinks of him and this blogger is ambivalent, for sure, he encouraged honest and critical thinking and the fact that he dug Coltrane and the quartet and this album as much as he did is worth celebrating on its own terms.

John Coltrane:  Live at Birdland (Impulse Records, 1963, 1996)

1.  Afro-Blue  10:53
2.  I Want to Talk About You  8:11
3.  The Promise  8:06
4.  Alabama  5:08
5.  Your Lady  6:39
6.  Vilia  4:36

John Coltrane: Africa/Brass, Volumes 1 & 2

Obviously, Trane's Giant Steps needs to be covered here as his greatest early recording, with Blue Train not far behind, but there was something really eye-opening back in 1990 hearing the incredible tune "Africa" from the saxophonist's first Impulse! album, Africa/Brass.

It was first the amazing opening with the emulation of animal and other sounds by a host of instruments played by some of the leading lights of late 50s and early 60s jazz.  These include Booker Little, whose death of uremia at age 23 took away someone who could have been a true legend and the versatile Freddie Hubbard on trumpets; the trombonists Charles Greenlee and Julian Priester, the latter a member of Sun Ra's underappreciated band; and the man who arranged it all, the alto sax and bass clarinet master Eric Dolphy.

Beyond these excellent players, there was the phenomenal rhythm section of pianist McCoy Tyner, bassists Paul Chambers, who'd worked with Trane in the great Miles Davis Quintet, and Reggie Workman, and, of course, the sublime Elvin Jones, one of the few drummers whose power and flexibility could work so well with such a large ensemble.

Trane's solo work on "Africa" is also pretty spectacular and, along with "India," demonstrated a palpable shift in his moving away from the so-called "sheets of sound" to something more exploratory of the broader potential of sound on his instrument rather than speedy runs on the changes that characterized his work up to about 1960.  The piece was recorded on either 4 June, according to the original album notes, or the 7th, as indicated in the liners for the second volume of recordings from the sessions. 

More importantly, "Africa" and "India" were concerted efforts at delving into sounds that evoked the music of non-Western cultures, reflecting Coltrane's growing interests in African, Indian and Middle Eastern sounds.

After his great success with "My Favorite Things" the year prior, Coltrane tried other popular tunes on which to work his modal magic on soprano sax and the attempt here was with the venerable "Greensleeves."  While the recording is usually regarded as an inferior one to "MFT," this blogger finds the piece not comparable and the ensemble does a fine job with it.  "Blues Minor" is just that and it is well played.  Both were recorded on 23 May 1961, two days before Trane recorded his final album for Atlantic, Olé, which also featured Dolphy.

In 1974, with the supervision of Coltrane's widow, Alice, a second volume of recordings from the original 1961 sessions was released.  Alternate versions of "Africa" and "Greensleeves" were accompanied by another traditional tune, arranged by the leader, this being "Song of the Underground Railroad."  While the latter two were recorded on 23 May with other selections from the first recording, the version of "Africa" was from 7 June and had an expanded orchestra conducted by Dolphy and including trombonist Britt Woodman (instead of Priester); four French horn players; a euphonium; tuba player Bill Barber, who had played with Miles Davis' so-called "Birth of the Cool" project a dozen years before; and Pat Patrick on a variety of reeds.  Instead of Paul Chambers, this session featured another solid bassist, Art Davis.

While the versions of "Africa" and "Greensleeves" may not be superior to the original released versions, it is interesting to hear the difference with the additional instrumentation, while "Song of the Underground Railroad" is another solid rendering.  In all three cases, Dolphy's different approaches to orchestration are indicative of his ability to experiment successfully with unusual instrument groupings and his strong sense of dynamics.

Dolphy's association with Coltrane was highly controversial at the time, for reasons which seem petty and trivial now, but, in light of the massive changes enveloping jazz as it moved from a primarily "hard bop" sound to the freer expressions wrought by Trane, Ornette Coleman and Cecil Taylor, among others, there was a genuine fear that the music was being pulled into chaotic waters. 

While Dolphy continued to experiment and extend his ideas further "out," albeit with less visibility than he had with Trane, the latter, in fact, soon moved into a period of recording that seemed calculated to prove that he could play in "traditional" ways, recording with the great Duke Ellington and with smooth as silk vocalist Johnny Hartman, as well as issuing an album of ballads.  Not until 1965 did Coltrane decide to let loose the reins and move into so-called "free jazz."

Perhaps Africa/Brass could be viewed as an early effort by Trane to take the music into a transitional zone, not too far removed from either the "standard" boppish sounds of the fifties or the freer work that was to dominate the sixties.  In "Africa," he and Dolphy created a sound that was eminently successful, while the other pieces on both volumes may not be quite so because they used the orchestration as coloration, rather than as a vital and integral part of the atmosphere of the tune as in "Africa."

In any case, this recording was an unusual way for Coltrane to launch his association with the fledgling Impulse! label, which, however, got a reputation for new, innovative music.  Africa/Brass went a long way towards heightening that feeling and for helping to make the label a standard bearer for newer forms of jazz that were, more or less, defining the new decade.

The Major Works of John Coltrane

Admittedly a strange title considering the great tenor saxophonist had so many other "major works," the two-disc The Major Works of John Coltrane was issued by GRP Records in 1992 with a fascinating selection of recordings made between late June and mid October 1965, when Trane pushed beyond the modal framework that yielded such classic records as A Love Supreme and Crescent and took his music into a freer, more experimental direction.

The epitome of this was the mindblowing Ascension, which was recorded in two takes on 28 June with his classic quartet of McCoy Tyner (piano), Jimmy Garrison (bass) and Elvin Jones (drums) and added seven other musicians, including tenor sax players Archie Shepp and Pharoah Sanders, altoists John Tchicai and Marion Brown, trumpeters Freddie Hubbard and Dewey Johnson and bassist Art Davis.  The first, slightly shorter at 38 1/2 minutes, version, called Edition I, was released first, before Coltrane, insisting that the other take, marked as Edition II and lasting two minutes longer, was the master and so a reissue had to be undertaken.

Clearly influenced by Ornette Coleman's 1960 epic, Free Jazz, Coltrane presented his musicians with very little in the form of a head arrangement or instruction, preferring those assembled to work together to develop the piece, although there was a preestablished order of soloists that varied between the two editions.  As Brown expressed it in a quote in the liners: "Spontaneity was the thing.  Trane had obviously thought a lot about what he wanted to do, but he wrote most of it out in the studio."  Shepp commented that "the emphasis was on textures rather than the making of an organizational unity" or, rather, that there was unity, but of the texture and sound, not the structure.

The musicians were an interesting mix, with some like Shepp, Tchicai (an Afro-Dane who was relatively new in America, but had honed his craft in his native Denmark) and Sanders representing the so-called "New Thing" of experimenting musicians working in the "free" realm, while Hubbard and Davis had a more mainstream background.  Brown and Johnson were largely unknown.  And, of course, there were the three stalwarts that had performed with Coltrane for some three years with it being notable that there was not a second drummer brought in because of Jones' remarkable polyrhythmic abilities.

Ascension proved to be an apt title as the music rose in power and intensity throughout the piece, not just for the listener, but also for the musicians, as Brown remarked that "they both [the editions] had that kind of thing in them that makes people scream.  The people who were in the studio were screaming.  I don't know how the engineers kept the screams out of the record."  Now, for some listeners not attuned to freer music, the cacophony is likely enough to send them screaming out of the room or scrambling to hit "stop" on their player.

But, for those who enjoy experimental "free jazz," this can be a profoundly moving record, both in the dense ensemble sound, but the soloing, as well.  Shepp has the coruscating earthy tone, Sanders the screaming upper-register blasting, the leader playing in all manner of sound and texture, Tyner keeping things grounded as much as possible with his somewhat out-of-place piano, Hubbard hitting the high notes with a clear-toned trumpet, and Davis and Garrison using the different bowed and plucked aspects of the double bass, while Jones tries mightily to employ all the rhythmic wizardry he can with the intensity and variety in the room.

As was noted in an earlier post about Albert Ayler's music, the best way to listen to this music may be to follow the sounds and textures Shepp emphasized, rather than to intellectualize the structure.  In this sense, Ascension can be a powerful experience.

Probably the same listening advice can be given to the 29-minute Om, although that recording, done in suburban Seattle on 1 October, and released in 1967, has been accorded far less attention than Ascension.  It is far stranger and denser than the other and was put to tape while Coltrane and his quartet were on the road with two other musicians, including Donald Garrett on the bass clarinet, although on the recording he plays the bass, and Sanders on tenor.  For the recording of Om, flutist Joe Brazil was added. 

There was a more pronounced and experiemental nod to India here than the perhaps superficial use of scalar patterns used in India in the recordings at the Village Vanguard in late 1961.   Then again, Coltrane's music was delving deeper into broad religious contexts from A Love Supreme to Meditations, which was recorded almost two months after Om.  Indeed, a vocalization appears here, as well, as the leader and others (Sanders, perhaps) recite the phrase "Om mani padme hum," a Buddhist mantra with many meanings, although the liners choose, "Om, the jewel, is in the lotus, amen." 

It should be pointed out that the term "Om" has significance to Buddhism, Hinduism and Jainism, so that it is a mystical sound in each and is used before and after reciting Hindu texts.  In the Jain religion, the term refers to the five-fold hierarchy of beings, including teachers, awakened beings, and liberated souls.

Regardless of the esoteric doctrinal applications of the phrase, the music in Om is primal, with animal sounds frequently issuing forth from the instruments, powerful with an even denser, cacophonous and intense wall of sound than that found in Ascension, though some of this is attributable to the studio and engineering, as the latter was recorded in the Rudy Van Gelder studio where the epitome of engineering expertise was to be found as opposed to the more pedestrian Camelot Studio in Lynwood, Washington, where Om was recorded.

Much has also been made of the possible (or likely?) influence of LSD at the Om session and it would certainly be easy to listen to the noises pouring forth from the speaker and conclude that the use of the drug was a guide to its otherwordly sound.  There is likely no way to know whether the stories are true and it may not matter.  Om, even with Ascension as an immediate precedent, has been a source of puzzlement and even derision unlike anything else in Coltrane's catalog, but this listener finds it fascinating.

The same applies to Kulu Se Mama, which was recorded in Los Angeles just about two weeks after Om.  There, while the Coltrane band was playing at the famed It Club, the leader met Juno Lewis, who hailed from New Orleans and who composed this piece which had vocals based on a poem Lewis said was in an Afro-Creole dialect called "Entobes."  Whatever validity there is in Lewis' stated associations, his voice and playing of various African derived percussion instruments, and Garrett's more prominent use of bass clarinet add new dimensions to Coltrane's evolving sound.  Kulu Se Mama has, over its 19 minute length, moments of exoticism that make for an interesting comparison to the earlier example of Africa from Trane's first Impulse! album in 1961.

In contrast to the other recordings on this set, Selflessness has more of the "traditional" compositional elements from Coltrane's earlier work, suffused, though, with the heavier textures brought in by the additional musicians and, most notably, by Sanders' intensely personal explorations of the upper reaches of the tenor's higher register, something he would bring to the fore in Meditations and the Live in Japan recordings later.  The 15-minute piece was released originally with tracks from a 1963 Newport Jazz Festival recording and probably seemed more in-place with that live performance than with the wild, restive recordings of a far more experimental Coltrane in mid-to-late 1965.

In any case, The Major Works of John Coltrane is a title that would raise the hackles of those who can argue, with some reason, that this term applies more to A Love Supreme, Crescent, Giant Steps, Blue Trane or My Favorite Things.  But, with the powerful and transportive Ascension at the helm and some curious, but compelling, works in Om and Kulu Se Mama, it is a very interesting set, using the CD technology to advantage for its long-form works, that has been played often in the twenty years since YHB picked it up.

The Major Works of John Coltrane (Impulse! GRP, 1992)

Disc One:

1.  Ascension (Edition I)  38:37
2.  Om  28:49

Disc Two:

1.  Ascension (Edition II)  40:31
2.  Kulu Se Mama  18:57
3.  Selflessnes  15:09

Sonny Sharrock: Ask the Ages

Some twenty-five ago, while flipping channels, YHB came across a PBS program that looked to be from the late 1960s or early 1970s.  Comedian Bill Cosby was hosting a show featuring jazz musicians and there was band that didn't particularly make any impact, so it was just about time to either turn the TV off or find another channel, when, suddenly, a guitarist launched into a solo that was mesmerizing and mind-blowing.  Rather than the clean, liquid tones of most jazz guitarists, this buy used feedback, lightning-quick strumming, and effects that reminded vaguely of Jimi Hendrix.  Then, the tune ended and the program went elsewhere without identifying who this incredible musician was.

Then, in 1991, when jazz had become a major interest/preoccupation, a review was read for an album called Ask the Ages by Sonny Sharrock and the writer raved about the recording and the pyrotechnics of the guitarist.  Because the tenor and soprano saxophonist was Pharoah Sanders and the drummer was Elvin Jones, both former players with the great John Coltrane, who was then occupying a great deal of listening time for YHB, the album took on added interest.  Little did I know . . .

From the first track, "Promises Kept," the powerful playing was stirring.  Sanders, whose fiery performances of the 1960s and first half of the 1970s, had given way to a more melodic, peaceful style, hearkened back to the glory days of such great albums as Karma (covered in this blog recently) and blew with an intensity and passion unheard for years.  Jones, always a master of polyrhythmic swing, plays tremendously on this album.  And, the youngster in the group, bassist Charnett Moffett, whose father, Charles, was a great drummer, holds down the bottom and keeps a strong pulse going for his elders (though they play as if they were of Moffett's age!)

After Sanders' lengthy and impressive solo, Sharrock launched right in and that sound immediately connected me back to that TV show from a few years back.  That was a very cool surprise--never would have expected that!

Surprising, too, after the fireworks of that opening tune is the gorgeously-played ballad, "Who Does She Hope to Be?" which showed that Sharrock, for all the mindboggling technique, blazing speed and monster sound is a master musician who could tap into the soul of a melodic piece with as much effect as in the faster tempo material.

"Little Rock" and "As We Used to Sing" are also top-notch flights of creative power and ability and the extremely tight playing of the quartet, who hadn't performed together previous to this date, is something to behold.

The highlight, though, and truly one of the great pieces of music YHB has ever heard is the earth-shattering nine-and-a-half minute excursion into hyperdrive, "Many Mansions."  Sanders again blows with an sustained intensity and interest that has to be heard to be believed, but then is followed by Sharrock's unbelievable shredding, sliding and screaming soloing.  It really can't be described by a total amateur.  Amazingly, Jones is third-fiddle on this record and he has a great, rumbling and crashing solo on this masterpiece of a tune.  Moffett, meantime, continues to support these masters with suppleness and strength.

At the time this album came out, I didn't know much about the co-producer Bill Laswell, nor was I aware that the label, Axiom, that released this essential album as an imprint of Island Records was his.  Nor was it known to me that Laswell had tracked Sharrock down (he was a truck driver and caretaker for mentally challenged children) after he had given up music and worked on a comeback with him, including the delightfully chaotic quartet, Last Exit, which will soon be profiled here.  Laswell's production is typically clear and clean, with the players recorded very skillfully to maximize their solos.  As a bassist, Laswell gave particular attention, it seems to me, to bringing Moffett's bass up front more so he could be given the opportunity to show his skills amongst his elder masters.

Moreover, Sharrock's recording debut came courtesy of Sanders and his 1967 album, Tauhid.  Sharrock had also recorded with Miles Davis on this A Tribute to Jack Johnson sessions in 1970, though most of his contributions were edited out (they can be heard, however, on the Complete Jack Johnson Sessions box set, which will be one of the "For Fanatics Only?" entries on this blog one day) and what was left was uncredited.

The remarkable Sonny Sharrock (1940-1994)

As too often happens, Sharrock was on the verge of signing his first major label record deal in 1994 when he suddenly had a massive fatal heart attack.  He was only 53.  Even though he died too soon and before he could present, perhaps, his music to larger audiences, Sharrock's work with Laswell, both in solo and group presentations, including Last Exit and records like Ask the Ages, endure. 

If there is a reader who happens upon this entry, has not expressed much interest in jazz, has never heard Sonny Sharrock, but enjoys masterful guitar and ensemble playing, you simply cannot do better than to give Ask the Ages a try.

Sonny Sharrock:  Ask the Ages (Axiom, 1991)

1.  Promises Kept  9:43
2.  Who Does She Hope to Be?  4:41
3.  Little Rock  7:12
4.  As We Used to Sing  7:45
5.  Many Mansions  9:31
6.  Once Upon a Time  6:26

For Fanatics Only? John Coltrane: The Complete 1961 Village Vanguard Recordings

Every so often, there'll be offerings under the heading "For Fanatics Only?", highlighting box sets that the casual listener or fan of a performer or group would not likely be interested in, but which a true fan-atic would probably appreciate.

The first of these covers a set that expands upon what is, after A Love Supreme my favorite John Coltrane recording.  The single album Live at the Village Vanguard, released in 1962, took three tracks from four nights of recording by notable engineer Rudy Van Gelder and became famous (or infamous) for the mind-boggling Chasin' the Trane, in which the legendary tenor and soprano saxophonist launched into a performance without a head arrangement or theme and proceeded to blow his way through nearly 16 minutes of stunning tenor sax playing, puncutated by phenomenal variations in color, tone and phrasing and presented with remarkable control.  Van Gelder remarked that he named the tune because he literally was "chasing" Coltrane with the recording equipment to capture the performance in highly challenging circumstances in a small, packed and oddly-shaped basement nightclub.

The other two tracks from the original album include the solemn and stately "Spiritual," in which Coltrane developed a theme from an old 19th-century gospel spiritual and used his soprano, as well as his tenor, to create beautiful and also heart-wrenching solos.  Trane's work is juxtaposed in interesting, if unusual ways, by the sinewy and twisting bass clarinet work of the sadly undervalued Eric Dolphy, who was making impressive and challenging music as a leader with Prestige Records (a Blue Note live album of Dolphy's has been featured on this blog already.)  Meanwhile, the standard "Softly, as in a Morning Sunrise" swings strongly, due in large measure to the stellar rhythm section of bassist Reggie Workman and drummer par excellence Elvin Jones, who works the brushes as well as anyone in jazz, and features excellent soloing from pianist McCoy Tyner.

In 1963, two more lengthy tracks formed the backbone of another album, Impressions.  The title track features the same chord sequence as the famed Miles Davis track "So What," a piece on which Coltrane performed from the popular and critcally-successful 1959 album Kind of Blue.  But, as all great artists do, Trane took the source material from a familiar environment and then transmuted it into something completely his own.  The other piece, however, is just as staggering.  "India," which in its modal form of playing, but also Trane's soprano sax playing, does evoke a broad feeling of Indian music and the musician had been listening to Indian classical music, as exemplified then by sitarist Ravi Shankar and sarod master Ali Akbar Khan (these two were also recently profiled on this blog for an album of their performances from the 1960s.)

Actually, in the early 1990s, an older woman I knew from work had heard that I'd become a Coltrane fan and, as her son worked for MCA Records, then owner of the Impulse! Records catalog, gave me two cassettes issued by MCA of highlights of Trane's Impulse work.  The tracks that drew my attention most were excerpts from A Love Supreme, the tremendous "Out of This World" from the eponymous 1962 album, "Chim Chim Cheree," from a 1965 record that features some of Trane's most powerful and impassioned soloing, "Africa" from his first Impulse album, the masterful Africa/Brass, and, finally, "India."

For the fanatics, though, 1997 brought the mother lode: the release of the 4CD box set, The Complete 1961 Village Vanguard Recordings.  Everything that had been recorded by Van Gelder on 1, 2, 3 and 5 November 1961 is here.  There are 22 tracks of 9 individual pieces, including four versions of "India" and "Spiritual", three of "Chasin' the Trane" [well, one is called "Chasin' Another Trane" and features a frequent collaborator on drums, the inimitable Roy Haynes], two of "Impressions," "Miles' Mode," "Naima," and the traditional "Greensleeves" and one each of "Softly" and "Brasilia," the latter not appearing on record until the same 1965 album that featured "Chim Chim Cheree."

Trane was in an interesting experimental mode, not just by having Dolphy appear on several tracks, especially on the first night, but also in having two bassists, Workman and Jimmy Garrison, who made his debut with Trane at this engagement and became his regular bass player for the next 5 1/2 years, an oud player named Ahmed Abdul-Malik (recall that Nubian oud master Hamza El Din has also been spotlighted on this blog) who provided an exotic coloration on India, and the oboeist Garvin Bushell, a little-remembered jazz and classical woodwind multi-instrumentalist, whose career started in the 1920s and whose work on the 2nd and 5th of November, added a deeper layer of sound and color to "India" and "Spiritual."

For a devoted follower of Coltrane, who revels in his experimentalism, drinks in the wonders of his live recordings and is an aficionado of the previously released Live at the Village Vanguard and Impressions albums, this box set is an essential purchase.  Even the several versions of key tracks reveal a variety and diversity in lineups and performance that show just how amazing Coltrane's work was developing in the early 1960s.

Despite sour reviews from some critics who labeled the music "anti-jazz" or intoned that Trane should have saved his playing for the "woodshed" [in other words, in private rather than in front of an audience], or felt that Dolphy was completely out of place with Trane, these reactionary ripostes only seem more ridiculous as time goes on.  However, in 1962, the biting remarks had an impact on readers of jazz publications and, to some extent, to the musicians, especially Trane and Dolphy, with the former expressing disbelief at how the latter, universally known as a quiet and gently personality, was being raked over the coals by so-called authorities who were, fortunately, on the wrong side of history.

Whatever "anti-jazz" was supposed to mean in the light of the advancing the music as exemplified by Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, Cecil Taylor, Charles Mingus and many others by late 1961, John Coltrane with his Africa/Brass collection and this live recording vaulted into the front ranks of any type of musician anywhere, much less jazz.  This box set is a remarkable excursion into feeling, experimentation, passion, dynamics, etc. and, though Coltrane and producer Bob Thiele soon embarked on a series of records to counter the "anti-jazz" label, including albums featuring ballads, a collaboration with Duke Ellington, and another with the incredibly smooth singer Johnny Hartman, there was no turning back ultimately. 

In a way, the path from Live at the Village Vanguard to A Love Supreme is pretty direct and it is one of many reasons why I feel this are the two strongest Coltrane recordings in terms of the impact he had on the direction of jazz music or music generally.  The 4-CD box set, with a great booklet featuring many photos, a discography and an excellent essay by Mark Wild, just gives a much deeper and intense exploration to those fanatics interested and willing in delving deeper into the wonders of John Coltrane's music in late 1961.

John Coltrane: The Complete 1961 Village Vanguard Recordings (Impulse! Records, 1997)

Disc One:

1.  India  10:20
2.  Chasin' the Trane  9:41
3.  Impressions  8:42
4.  Spiritual  12:29
5.  Miles' Mode  9:53
6.  Naima  7:33

Disc Two:

1.  Brasilia  18:35
2.  Chasin' Another Trane  15:26
3.  India  13:14
4.  Spiritual  15:03
5.  Softly, as in a Morning Sunrise  6:25

Disc Three:

1.  Chasin' the Trane  15:55
2.  Greensleeves  6:08
3.  Impressions  10:49
4.  Spiritual  13:31
5.  Naima  7:02
6.  Impressions  14:45

Disc Four:

1.  India  13:55
2.  Greensleeves  4:51
3.  Miles' Mode  15:12
4.  India  15:06
5.  Spiritual  20:29