Albert Ayler: Spirits Rejoice

This entry is in response to the death on 19 April of Bernard Stollman, the attorney who founded ESP-Disk in response to hearing the amazing Albert Ayler perform live in 1964 and told him he was founding a label and wanted the tenor sax player to be his first artist.

Stollman, whose first release on ESP-Disk was actually a record about Esperanto, the universal language that has never caught on, liked to advertise that with his label, "the artists alone decide what you hear on their ESP-Disk."  And, however true that may have been, the label recorded some of the most expressive and off-putting (to most ears) of the so-called free jazz players from the middle and late sixties.  Ayler was perhaps the most notorious of them.

Stollman, however, was roundly criticized from musicians who recorded for the label and found themselves receiving little or no royalties and having no control over their music.  At the same time, the label made so little money that it was closed after about a decade, though revived again in 2005.  This version of Spirits Rejoice was issued in 2012 with a new design and layout and remastering.

Recorded at Judson Hall in New Tork on 23 September 1965, Spirits Rejoice is a prime example of Ayler's peak ecstatic phase, in which the songs largely revolve around spiritual themes exemplified by references to martial, New Orleans, R&B and other genres.  In a rare occurrence, another sax player, altoist Charles Tyler, recorded with Ayler, whose brother Donald also marks his debut as a rather raggedy, but very emotional, trumpeter.

The three horns are generally either playing the strangely uplifting themes or tearing into powerful solos, but they sound quite harmonic in the former, while moving in different directions, but with an ear to each other, into the outer limits of jazz on the latter.

Meanwhile, the remarkable Sunny Murray, eerily moaning most of the way through, plays his drums with the kind of meterless freedom that allows the soloists to play however they'd like, while keeping a sense of order to the proceedings.

The drummer is joined by bassists Henry Grimes and Gary Peacock, who are often not heard well in the mix unless soloing, even with a good remastering job.  This is a bit of a shame because both played often with Ayler and knew how to use their instruments, particularly Peacock, in the service of the music.

On at least one piece, "Angels," Ayler pairs up with the much older harpsichordist Call Cobbs, whose instrument was often used in pop, rock and jazz in the Sixties and sounds quaint, yet oddly appealing.  The again, hearing enough of Ayler's music and its obsession with spiritual concerns, Cobbs' playing does have an uncanny way of harmonizing with the somewhat maudlin melody of the piece.

Through Bernard Stollman and ESP-Disk, much of Ayler's best and most challenging work was released (even if Ayler received very little money for his work, if the accusations against Stollman are true) and we are fortunate to have the documentation of music from one of jazz's most intriguing musicians.  Throughout, Ayler's huge tone, melodic simplicity, utter sincerity, and his frenetic and fantastic solo work present him as one of the era's most distinctive performers.

Cecil Taylor: Nefertiti, the Beautiful One Has Come

This is where it started.  At the Cafe Montmartre in Copenhagen, Denmark in 1962, the pianist Cecil Taylor and his compatriots, altoist Jimmy Lyons (who worked with Taylor for nearly a quarter century) and drummer Sunny Murray found the freedom to pursue a particularly creative, innovative and powerful way to play their music.

It was a revelation that was years ahead of its time and, sadly, kept Taylor from being hired for performances and signed to record deals for most of the rest of the 1960s, excepting a stint with Blue Note Records mid-decade that yielded the great Conquistador! and the remarkable Unit Structures.

But, it was Nefertiti that provided the template, the blueprint for the type of relentless emphasis on expression that drove Taylor to make some of the most challenging and technically brilliant music on piano heard anywhere.

This double-disc release on guitarist John Fahey's Revenant Records (also responsible for the fantastic Albert Ayler box, Holy Ghost, someday to be highlighted here) in 2007 provides music from both sets of the Montmartre gig.  With the exception of the standard "What's New?" the pieces are Taylor originals.

By original is meant a new direction for the pianist, who was already pushing at the boundaries of freedom in jazz from his 1956 debut Jazz Advance through the transitional recordings for the Candid label in 1960-61, featuring bassist Buell Neidlinger and budding altoist Archie Shepp.

When Taylor joined forces with Lyons, who immediately knew how to build off the leader's complicated foundations, and Murray, who sense of freedom in keeping time may have been among the greatest inspirations for the new direction, something happened that was profoundly new in jazz.

As many observers have noted, though, it wasn't just jazz that Taylor was working with.  He was classically trained at the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston and seemed intent on working with the modern structures of Igor Stravinsky, Bela Bartok and others as well as developing his unique approach to jazz.  Taylor has often commented that his music is attuned to the rhythms of dance.

This recording was made during the course of a seven-week engagement and, though the fidelity is not particularly strong (Revenant's remastering, however, appears to have done as good a job with the source as could be expected), the playing is so exceptional that the deficiencies in sound can be easily overlooked.  It is, however, obvious that the piano in the club, apparently an upright, was not in the best of shape, but, as an exceptional craftsperson, Taylor makes the most of the situation.

He is relentless, probing, and searching in his use of notes, chords, runs and octaves during solos and provides comping behind Lyons that drives the altoist to some spectacular playing--at once, very bop sounding, but also very new and innovative.

The fact that Lyons spent most of his career as a quiet, but essential part of Taylor's Unit, while hardly doing any solo work or collaborations with others, has left him out of most discussions when it comes to the many great alto players since 1960.

As for Sunny Murray, it is tough to qualify the pathbreaking mark he set, not just here, but also in his remarkable work with Albert Ayler, Shepp and on his own.  His constant shifting in time and meter, heavy use of washes of cymbals and his unearthly vocalizing (moaning?) during his playing are hallmarks of a style that was entirely his own.  Murray's expansive approach to the kit and expressions of freedom in time gave Taylor the space to employ the full range of his technique on the piano (even one as badly maintained as that at the Cafe Montmartre.)

In 1962, another great innovator of the era, Ornette Coleman went into a sort of self-imposed exile, frustrated with the machinations of the music business and, perhaps, his flashpoint role in the controversy over where jazz was heading.  Whereas Coleman's silence, lasting until 1965, was largely of choice, Taylor's own period of near-silence was anything but that.  He was just considered to be too out there until Alfred Lion signed Taylor for that two-album deal mentioned above.  After that, the later sixties saw a few recorded live performances, including a great French set with the great Sam Rivers in 1969.

It was not, however, until the 70s that Taylor started to build a small, but loyal audience and some measure of critical acceptance and praise.  By the end of the 1980s, he was finally recognized as the brilliant visionary he had been for more than two decades and, while his output slowed over time, he passion, power and explorations continued undimmed.  This blogger had the pleasure of seeing Taylor and a quartet at Los Angeles' Jazz Bakery in 1999 and has been a big fan ever since buying Conquistador! and then Unit Structures, as well as some of the Candid recordings in the early 90s.

He's still with us--performing less, but still receiving accolades, including the Kyoto Prize (though his $500,000 cash award was embezzled from the 85-year old composer by someone he trusted--the case against the criminal is, apparently, pending.)  Whether Taylor will be playing much in public is unknown, but, after decades of near-neglect, the piano titan has finally been accorded some of the respect he has long deserved.

And, it really started in Copenhagen over a half-century ago with music that plunged forward in a world not ready to accept it and which is still provocative, fresh and brimming with invention.  For the ultimate in adventurous jazz, Cecil Taylor's music can be a breathtaking experience.

Albert Ayler: Live in Greenwich Village: The Complete Impulse Recordings

The first Albert Ayler this blogger purchased back around 1990 was the original single-disc Live in Greenwich Village, released in 1967.  Admittedly, the album proved to be a hard-sell at the time with its freeing of time and rhythm, simple march-like melodies, and powerful intense soloing by the tenorist and others in his band all but overwhelming.

Years passed, though, and the gradual recalibration of listening to other so-called "free jazz," including the great Cecil Taylor (it took some time to get acclimated there, too), the post-1964 work of the sublime John Coltrane, such albums as the remarkable Ornette Coleman's Free Jazz, and others finally took root.  Allowing preconceptions to be broken down and new ways of hearing to come to the fore led to a greater appreciation for Ayler's work, especially when the tremendous Spiritual Unity (previously spotlighted here) was heard.

For a while, every Ayler recording that could be obtained was purchased and listened to with eagerness to enjoy his relentless pursuit of the joy of sound.  Eventually, the mammoth 10-disc box set, Holy Ghost, was acquired and it will also be given due attention here (under the occasional, half-humorous moniker of "For Fanatics Only.)

It's amazing, then, that Ayler only recorded for about seven years, with the period from 1964-67 being that in which his most fruitful work was made.  One of the great documents of his live work is the double-disc Live in Greenwich Village: The Complete Impulse Recordings, which augments the original live album with other performances.

 

The opening track, "Holy Ghost", is the sole offering from a March 1965 set at The Village Gate and features a quintet with Ayler's brother Don on trumpet, Lewis Worrrell on bass, cellist Joel Freedman, and the great drummer Sunny Murray, one of those most responsible for the titanic shift away from regular timekeeping and rhythm to a more open conception.  Freedman's cello playing also provides a startling type of color and tone when heard against Ayler's impassioned playing and Donald Ayler's rough, but intense contributions.

The sessions that were used in the original album were recorded in December 1966 at The Village Vanguard and at The Village Theater about two months later.  At the Vanguard, violinist Michel Sampson, bassists Bill Folwell and Henry Grimes, and drummer Beaver Harris joined the Ayler brothers and the presence of two bass players and Sampson's work gave a notably difference in atmosphere and rhythm.  On one track, "Angels," a pianist performed with Ayler and it is assumed it was Call Cobbs, Jr., an older man who played occasionally with Ayler over the years.

The Village Theater's set had a trombonist, George Steele, on the incomplete tune "Universal Thoughts" and this time both Sampson and Freedman appeared, upping the ante further in terms of what the stringed instruments brought to the larger format of the band.  Folwell was joined on bass by Alan Silva, exclusively using the bow evidently.  Harris did the drumming, except on the tribute "For John Coltrane" that opens disc two.

A couple of pieces are in mono sound and another did not have a master tape version, but those who appreciate the idealism, power, passion and yearning that is evident in Ayler's music will have no problem hearing songs that are low-fi or suddenly trail off.  Ayler was completely sincere in his belief that his music was inspired by divine ideas and his desire to elevate his work into a spiritual plane is obvious.  Ultimately, he tried more commercial work after 1967 and struggled to find an audience before his mysterious and untimely death in September 1970.

Undoubtedly, listening to the work of this remarkable saxophonist is challenging and, as has been stated here before, the advice offered by him and his brother is about the best that can be given for those willing to try.  In other words, try to follow the sound, not the notes.  Being open-minded and then geared towards the sound rather than the structure is the way to go with the work of Albert Ayler.  It took this listener some time to adapt, but the results have been rewarding and uplifting.

Albert Ayler: Spiritual Unity

In the so-called world of "avant-garde" or "free" jazz, there was probably no one freer than tenor saxophonist Albert Ayler.  Born in Cleveland in 1936, Ayler first developed professionally in Europe, where he had served, as so many jazz musicians did, in the military.  His earliest recordings came out of Denmark and, in 1964, he returned to New York and formed a trio with bassist Gary Peacock (best known for his work in the Keith Jarrett trio, specializing in standards, with the renowned pianist and the remarkable drummer Jack DeJohnette) and drummer Sunny Murray, who may have been the freest drummer in jazz, coming first to attention with Cecil Taylor.  Ayler was hailed for his innovations by John Coltrane, who was clearly influenced by the former in his work, especially from the 1965 album Meditations onward, and by the sadly underappreciated Eric Dolphy, who said Ayler was the best sax player he knew.

Their 1964 album, Spiritual Unity, the first release of the iconoclastic ESP-Disk label, is a fantastic document of Ayler's self-described "energy music."  Freed of dependence on chord changes and standard timekeeping, the trio was an example of how absolute freedom (well, outside of the basic head or melody statement offered in a given piece) can work when the players are sympathetic to each other as well as independently playing whatever moves them on their instrument.

Peacock manages to provide a foundation without a steady rhythm or pulse, but his playing does keep the sound anchored, even as explores a wide tonal range on the bass.  Murray, eerily humming or moaning throughout, which adds an air of mystery, foreboding, or a strange feeling of joy (depending on the listener's take) also employs a great variety of percussive elements, none of it involving rolls, hard cracks of the snare, or aggressive ride cymbal playing.  Instead, he plays impressionistically and uses seemingly all parts of his kit, especially a spreading cymbal sound, to create with Peacock lots of space for the leader's playing.  For something this "free" the rhythm section is amazingly grounded without being restricted to a defined sense of time.

Ayler, as he nearly always did, dominates the proceedings, largely because of his massive, powerful sound on the saxophone, assisted by the hardest plastic reed he could get.  This not only allowed him tremendous volume, but an expansive vibrato that made his playing instantly recognizable (not that this was considered a good thing by many.)  Known as an intensely charismatic, spiritual and eccentric person, Ayler was convinced that he was on a God-given mission to change the world through music.  This might not have seemed that "far out" in the "far out" Sixties, but the sheer conviction he possessed is palpably heard in his music, especially on Spiritual Unity, where he finds the right compatriots to craft his message.

Ayler's most  well-known composition, "Ghosts," is given two variations here, the second twice as long as the first (and Ayler soloing for much longer than on the first version), and it is the best example of his approach of using simple melodies, seemingly drawing from spirituals, pre-1930 New Orleans-style jazz, marches, and rural folk, to open a piece before launching into the totally free soloing that ran the gamut of expressive honking, screaming, wailing, squealing and, occasionally, a beautiful clear-toned phrase that could remind listeners that Ayler was perfectly capable of playing "in the tradition" if he chose to.

Actually, Albert Ayler was more "in the tradition" than people gave him credit for, if we allow for the fact that "in the tradition" can mean taking earlier aspects of the music, applying new ideas, and then creating a hybrid that celebrates the best of what jazz can be.  Far more than merely high-volume screaming, Ayler crafted a totally unique sound that took "free" jazz to the limits.

At under 30 minutes and because of the empathy among the musicians that was fully realized in the title, Spiritual Unity is probably the best place for the uninitiated to start with Ayler.  While his music is invariably described as "difficult," the best piece of advice on how to listen to it was offered by him and his trumpeter brother, Donald:  try to listen to the sound and not the notes.  In other words, don't get caught up in intellectualizing the music from a structural point of view.  Instead, focus on the emotion embodied in the playing and let it carry you as far as you are willing to go.

For those willing to go along for the ride, the music of Albert Ayler, especially up through 1967 and the album Love Cry, can be a powerful and affecting experience.  Disappointed that his message of music as the harbinger of a new, peaceful age was not reaching larger audiences, Ayler redirected his efforts towards a more commercial sound driven by funk, electric guitar, and "hippie" lyrics and vocals by his girlfriend Mary Parks (known as Mary Maria.)  That proved to be unsuccessful also and, just as Ayler was starting to move back toward the free jazz sound that made his name (if not his fame), he disappeared in November 1970 and was found floating in the East River, a death usually attributed to suicide, though some believe he was murdered or perhaps fell in the river accidentally.

An early death often drives a mystique that can overshadow the work the person did, but in Ayler's case, the work speaks for itself.  A better introduction to that work cannot be found than Spiritual Unity.

Albert Ayler Trio:  Spiritual Unity (ESP-Disk)

1.  Ghosts: First Variation  5:14
2.  The Wizard  7:23
3.  Spirits  6:48
4.  Ghosts: Second Variation  10:02