Ornette Coleman: Free Jazz

Having first heard this 35 years ago (on vinyl) in the earliest explorations of jazz (along with classical and world music, to broaden listening horizons) and only having the barest of understanding of what was involved with improvisation and its relationship to harmony and rhythm, especially in that world in 1960, Ornette Coleman's 37-minute Free Jazz, recorded in one take and no editing, was really a jarring experience, but a fascinating one.  The leader stated that the goal "was for us to play together, all at the same time, without getting in each other's way, and also to have enough room for each player to ad lib alone—and to follow this idea for the duration of the album."

One of the elements of the recording that immediately stood out was the placement of four musicians on each channel, with the leader, trumpeter Don Cherry, drummer Billy Higgins and bassist Scott LaFaro on the left and bass clarinetist Eric Dolphy, trumpeter Freddie Hubbard, bassist Charlie Haden and drummer Ed Blackwell on the right.  That way, especially with headphones, you can hear the differences between the two quartets, even as the processing of the octet as an ensemble is taking place.

Coleman called Free Jazz a collective improvisation because he only wrote out the parts played by the horns prior to each solo; otherwise, the musicians had that freedom to play whatever they wanted to complement or supplement what the soloists were playing.  That meant that the excellence of the individual musicians had to be sharpened as part of this collectivity and all eight of them were masters.  

As someone who tends to focus on the rhythm sections as the underpinning of the music, it is especially fascinating to hear the differences between but commonalities among the bassists and drummers.  LaFaro had the toughest assignment, as Haden, Blackwell and Higgins were experienced participants in the leader's unusual sound world.  The soloing of these duos is also fascinating, while it's the continual driving pulse the holds all of this together.

Regarding the horn players, the varying styles are clear, but so is the ability of them to be part of that ensemble as the other support the given soloist.  Having Dolphy, moreover, play clarinet adds a richness and depth, as well as variation, in the performance, while Hubbard, a more traditional player, seems to easily adapt to this freer environment, in which, of course, Cherry and Coleman were deeply absorbed.  Also very notable are the ways in which the other wind instruments engage with the soloist.

Those having the late 1990s CD version can also hear "First Take," which is less than half the length of the originally released recording and it is very interesting to listen to it and compare and contrast it to the fuller version.  Though Free Jazz was reviled, as well as hailed, by many when released in September 1961, it encouraged to future efforts like John Coltrane's Ascension (1965) and influenced a great many jazz musicians to open themselves in terms of what was viewed as necessary or required in the music.  

With music this untethered to traditional approaches, immersion seems the only way to appreciate what this incredible album offers.  As Coleman remarked in the liner notes: "We were expressing our minds and emotions as much as could be captured by electronics."   

L. Subramaniam: In Concert

From one violinist, Laurie Anderson, to another, we turn to the astounding Lakshminarayana Subramaniam, whose Carnatic music from South India is a wonder to hear.  This scintillating live recording from the November 1983 Festival de Lille in France and released by Radio France's Ocora imprint through Harmonia Mundi, includes three tunes, two well over 20 minutes and the other a mere seven, as the master, accompanied by his late wife, Viji (niece of the great Ravi Shankar) on tambura and Varadarao Kamakalar Rao, who died last fall, on mridangam.

Known as "L. Subramaniam," the virtuoso, the son of musicians, was a child prodigy and studied under his father before he was five years old.  An uncle was vocalist Ramnad Krishnan, whose Vidwan album for the Nonesuch Explorer series became a favorite when purchased around 1990, while his brothers were also accomplished musicians, as are the maestro's three children.  He studied medicine and was registered as a general practitioner before turning to music, including advanced study in Western classical music, as his vocation.

He has recorded prolifically and this blogger's first experience with Subramaniam's music was his Karnatic Violin album, also released by Ocora.  The liner notes call him "the Paganini of carnatic music," and, whether referencing a Western violin master is apropos or not, it is also striking that the text says that he "embodies both the serenity of the Indian musician and the magnetism of a Western movie star."  Whatever this means, Subramaniam is quoted as saying that his development was done "unconsciously," though he added that, under his father, "we had a very severe daily routine," even as he stated that he and his siblings could not get enough music despite the intense study.

The master added, "I wanted to return to the sources of carnatic tradition" and "to change the function of the violin, to no longer limit its function to that of accompanying the voice."  Moreover, he set out to widen the range from two or three to five or six octaves and this meant playing longer ragas, so that "that is why I only play two or three compositions during a concert" as this was "much more satisfying. I can get totally immersed in my music."  So do we, as he follows tradition in terms of beginning a piece slowly, expressing themes and then improvising at great length, increasing complexity and expression and at frequently dizzying speed and dazzling proficiency.  In Concert is a stunning exposition of Subramaniam's sublime art within the time-honored Carnatic musical tradition going back thousands of years.

Laurie Anderson: Big Science

Why it took so long to get this album is another example of missing out for many years on an amazing landmark recording by a remarkable artist.  In this case, Laurie Anderson is both a musician and a performance artist and her 1982 debut (how she got a 7-album deal from a major label, Warner Brothers, is notable), unlike anything else that came out during that time, was a sampling of a massively ambitious project, United States, a sprawling look in four parts with nearly 80 separate pieces that examined technology, the post-industrial world and what some take to be something of a dystopian view of American life, expressed artistically, archly, ironically and presciently.

Big Science is a stunning collection that combines lyrics that are often simultaneously vague and highly personal, some seemingly critical of aspects of modern life and others that appear to be about lovers, while there are pieces that look to be about family dynamics, with a compelling palette of musical sounds including Anderson's main instrument, the violin, and keyboards, with percussion, horns, a bagpipe, electronics and hand claps.

The effects of these piece is mesmerizing.  While "O Superman (For Massenet" became a surprise hit single in England, largely thanks to DJ John Peel playing it frequently on his show, and is often cited as the centerpiece of the record, all eight tracks are excellent evocations of Anderson's unusual approach to songs.  This includes her vocalizations, use of effects, the unusual instrumentation, sense of arrangement, crystalline production, judicious use of space, and the convergence of what is often called avant-garde with popular music.

In fact, this last part may be the most impressive feat of all with Big Science; namely, that it is certainly experimental, experiential in its immersive qualities, but very relatable from a pop sensibility.  Hearing this amazing album now, moreover, it feels as if this is totally relevant as we've become more wedded to technology, displaced and, it feels, less human in our interactions (or lack of them) with each other.  As electronic as much of the record is, it has a warmth and sensitivity (as well as a good use of irony and satire) that is an especially humanizing experience.