Scorn: Evanescence/Ellipsis

After the extreme speed, power and auditory intensity, not to mention the famous "blast beat," unleashed on the world by Napalm Death back in the late 1980s, drummer Mick Harris decided to make an abrupt change in direction by 1991.  He was invited to join John Zorn and Bill Laswell with their PainKiller project, which has been covered in a couple of previous posts here, and this experience, along with his long-standing interest in electronic, dub and other music forms, led Harris and former ND band member,  bassist/vocalist Nicholas Bullen, to form Scorn.

It is understandable that the pair thought to gradually shift and evolve their sound through the first two Earache Records albums, 1992's Vae Solis and the following year's Colossus, where, on the first recording especially, thanks to the guitar work of Justin Broadrick, traces of the grindcore sound where very much present.  The second disc, though, pushed more into a dark, electronic sound world and the transition continued into 1994 and the third album.

Evanescence was perhaps the pinnacle of what Bullen thought could be done with the project, though there were apparently personal reasons for his exiting Scorn not long afterward.  Whatever transpired, he and Harris left a remarkable recording, with the 63-minute album a unified work with all of its pieces well-sequenced and consistent from start to finish.  A lot of labels get applied to this music—illbient, electronic, trip hop, dub, isolationist—but Scorn was in its own world at the time.

Bullen's bass playing harmonizes very well with the sampling and electronics, minimal guitar and Harris' drum programming, which is also extremely well done.  The detached, monotone vocals may do more to engender the feeling of "isolationism," but, while many might view the record as dark (and there's plenty of reason to feel that way given Scorn's extensive catalog over the decades, especially when Harris took it solo with the next album, 1995's Gyral), it doesn't have that feel to this listener. 

 

The success of Evanescence invited a remix album, Ellipsis, with contributions by such luminaries as Laswell, Meat Beat Manifesto, Robin Rimbaud/Scanner, and Autechre, and it is intriguing to hear the recordings back-to-back—to some, Ellipsis is better, though this blogger prefers to think of them as complementary and the latter as revealing different audio impressions of the original material.  Scorn's sound necessarily changed when Harris continued with the project, with percussion taking center stage and, therefore, becoming much more minimalist and, yes, darker.  

Fortunately, though he has put the brakes on a couple of times, Scorn is still with us, including albums in 2019 and 2021, while he has also, fortunately, also revived his amazing Lull project, as well.  It's been a remarkable career and good to see that, despite many trials and tribulations in a tough profession, Mick Harris continues to put his indelible and individualistic stamp on some amazing electronic music.

John Coltrane: A Love Supreme, Live in Seattle

What an amazing circumstance it was when the Impulse! label released, in 2021, this astounding document that was long hidden in the possession of saxophonist and teacher Joe Brazil and which was one of the very few live recordings of John Coltrane's transcendent suite, A Love Supreme.  Recorded on house equipment at The Penthouse club in Seattle on 2 October 1965, this music featured the master and his classic quartet of pianist McCoy Tyner, bassist Jimmy Garrison and drummer Elvin Jones, supplemented by bassist Donald Rafael Garrett, alto sax player Carlos Ward, and the great Pharoah Sanders, who departed this world last September.

After several years of working nearly exclusively with Garrison, Jones and Tyner and reaching the limits of what he felt could be done with modal jazz, Coltrane sought new ways of expression, with instrumentation, composition, improvisation, harmony and time and in other ways.  Not long after this recording, Tyner and Jones left the band, uncomfortable with the new directions pursued by Coltrane, while Garrison remained until the leader's death untimely death from liver cancer at age 40 in July 1967.

Not surprisingly, whereas the studio version of this masterpiece, recorded in December 1964, was conceived and played with precision, power, passion and no filler, this version, more than the other live recording, from the Antibes Jazz Festival in France in late June 1965, is looser, more open and free, and  often filled with explosive intensity unrivaled in jazz.  There were, too, the growing contradictions within the expanded band, especially for Tyner, a staggering pianist, but whose lyrical playing, complex soloing and distinctive comping often seems lost or out-of-place in the maelstrom—his solo on the third part, "Pursuance," however, is outstanding.  On the other hand, Garrison, the consummate accompanist, played well with Garrett and Jones, who often expressed frustration with the new manner of performance, more than keeps things moving with his great polyrhythmic playing for this unpredictable and fiery ensemble.

A lot has been said about Sanders and his often-abrasive and emotive style of playing, but he proved to be an excellent foil and complement, as well as an inspiration, to Coltrane, who was absorbing a good deal of "free jazz," most especially that of Albert Ayler (Trane made sure that Sanders and Ayler were signed to Impulse!).  Ward has some fine moments, as well, settling in somewhere between Sanders and Coltrane in terms of style and approach.  With respect to the leader, he was clearly inspired by new musicians and ways of writing and playing and making every effort to plunge forward fearlessly with records like Ascension, Om, and Meditations, while live recordings such as the ones in Seattle, Japan and the second Village Vanguard set show the full steam ahead approach that prevailed until the master died of liver cancer in 1967, at just age 40.

There was a lot of controversy about Coltrane's direction after 1964, but it's also understandable why he went where he did.  To grow is to change and this push into freer music was the only way he could see to go.  This end period was a world away from the hit version of My Favorite Things or his Standards album, but it is fascinating to follow him in those last years and this is a revelation for that era.

Japan: Nagauta

This is another incredible release on the Ocora label from Radio France and features four long pieces (nagauta), ranging from 12 to over 31 minutes, of pieces performed in the Kabuki theater, along with classical dance.  Intense vocals accompanied by the shamisen, a three-stringed lute, and flutes along with three types of drums, provide a fascinating sound palette, though anyone who isn't attuned to the instrumental tunings and singing style, much less the length of the songs, may struggle with this music.

The Kineya Ensemble includes a quartet of vocalists and shamisen players, a flautist, and five drummers while the four works date from 1774, 1834, 1856 and 1933, with the first three dating to before Westernization became a priority in Japan to preserve its independence and prevent what happened to China at the hand of Western colonizers.  The 1930s piece, composed as the country was heading into the military dictatorship that led to Japan's near-ruin in World War II, draws from classical tradition, but did not accompany dance or theatrical presentation.

For this listener, classical Japanese music is fascinating and mesmerizing and, among the many recordings heard from that country and tradition, this is among the most interesting.  Kudos to Ocora for its issuing of this release in 1997 as part of its phenomenal roster of world music albums.