Albert Ayler was considered a leading light in Free Jazz (or The New Thing) where form, structure and timing was broken down and restructured in a prepared or improvisational way. Ayler has been the subject in quite a few other of my blog posts, and one thing is for sure, he lived for his art. In a large part, that wasn't too dissimilar to other artists of the period. He struggled to make a decent living from his music, and for prolonged periods of time he was living in poverty.
In the journal Jazz Monthly from September 1967, WA Baldwin argued that Ayler wasn't so revolutionary in a "free" sense, but he was in his sound. Ayler was heavily influenced by composer Charles Ives, and the way he incorporated marching band music into his compositions. Like Ayler, Ives' main recognition only came after his death. I don't have all the articles, but it appears to be a series of five, the last of which I've previously posted In Defence of Albert Ayler and The New Thing.
ANYONE who has taken any interest in jazz criticism will hardly have failed to notice the controversy which invariably surrounds any new musician with a degree of originality—the interesting thing about this controversy is that it is repeated in an almost identical fashion in the case of each musician. Exactly the same criticisms (lack of “swing” etc.) are made today about a figure such as Albert Ayler as were being made some years ago about Ornette Coleman, and of course were also applied to Charlie Parker in the '40’s. Just alter the names and any review of an early bop issue or one of Ornette Coleman’s early records would serve quite adequately as an Ayler review.
The real irony of such controversy is that it is usually conducted on a level totally removed from reality: thus the original artist is praised by some for the revolutionary nature of his art as well as being attacked by others for his spurning of tradition: both these attitudes in fact turn out to be equally misguided, as the musician in question is usually very much less revolutionary in his approach than either side of the dispute appears to imagine.
This is perhaps a commonplace observation, but it is a necessary preamble to an attempt to comment usefully on the style of Albert Ayler, who is regarded by many as the most uncompromisingly revolutionary of the jazz musicians of today. Ayler’s supposed removal from the jazz tradition has become the main issue in any discussion of his work, both on the part of the detractors, and, in many cases, of the enthusiasts. In fact Ayler’s playing is not merely an extension of the jazz tradition rather than a break from it, but his work is in some ways more traditional even in form than much of the music being played today. Any useful evaluation of Ayler's work must start by making this clear.
Undoubtedly the most important aspect of Ayler’s traditionalism is the fact that although his playing is nominally ‘free’, nevertheless, as the critic Henry Woodfin has pointed out in an article on Ayler in Down Beat (Nov. 17, 1966), in practice he plays around an implied time—something which seems to have escaped the attention of many commentators. If | add that this “implied time” always sounds remarkably like 4/4 time, it should be clear that by the standards of the New Thing and even of Modern Jazz in general Ayler—like Ornette Coleman—is even something of a conservative.
It is rather strange to note that both Ayler and Coleman give the impression, in statements they have made about their music, of imagining that they do play completely freely: since this is not so, it suggests one of two possible explanations. It is possible that sheer force of habit is responsible; that musicians who have been playing in 4/4 time for a number of years come to play naturally in this time without intending to. On the other hand it is possible that 4/4 time is simply the best time for playing jazz in, and that a jazz improvisation does not sound “right” unless it has the rhythmic continuity which comes from a steady beat, played or implied. Certainly all jazz improvisations which are really completely free rhythmically suffer seriously from a lack of continuity.
The work of the rhythm sections on Ayler’s records is probably more responsible for the difficulty which many people find in listening to it than the playing of Ayler himself. Although not generally given enough credit for it, most New Orleans horns play around the beat, often with a considerable amount of subtlety.
The only really marked development in jazz rhythm is to be found in the rhythm section, which, leaving aside the work of certain notable exceptions, has progressively gained a greater degree of freedom from the beat. Even on Ayler’s records however the rhythm section is not completely independent of the beat, although careful listening is required to hear the implied beat in the work of such as Sonny Murray or Gary Peacock. At times the rhythm is only being maintained by either bass or drums, but it is certainly rare to find a completely arhythmic backing on any of Ayler's records.
There is little that is new in the construction of Ayler's improvisations, either. The “motivic” development, making use of a melodic or rhythmic ‘motif’, which is found in Ornette Coleman's work, is the basis of Ayler’s style. Ayler in fact applies this system more consistently than Coleman, and’in general reveals a greater care in the construction of his solos.
It is clear of course how Ayler has gained his reputation as a revolutionary: the answer lies in the strikingly different sound of Ayler’s tenor. There should however be no need to point out that the transformation in terms of technique, intonation etc., of an instrument's normal characteristics is not by any means unusual in jazz. If no one had previously treated the tenor saxophone in this way, there is certainly plenty of precedent as far as other instruments are concerned.
Since criticism of Ayler’s work has usually revealed the most basic misconception it would perhaps be useful to comment on each of his releases individually. Covering only about two years, the recordings he has already made are remarkable not only for their consistently high quality but also for the variety of different approaches that they reveal. The fact that they also show a consistent development of Ayler’s style towards a more formal and concise conception of the solo, and away from the rather loose form and long solos characteristic of much modern jazz, allows us to draw some conclusions about the real nature of the “New Thing” in jazz.
MY NAME IS ALBERT AYLER
Danish Debut DEB140 — Fontana 688 603 ZL
THIS record is probably the weakest of Ayler's records, as due to a combination of circumstances Ayler was forced to record with a completely unfamiliar rhythm section instead of the Cecil Taylor group with which he had been playing. There is a strong similarity to Ornette Coleman’s first record which also had a pianist who was a hindrance rather than a help: there is the same compromise between the attempts at purely thematic improvising and suggestions at least of conventional improvising on the chords. Most of the tracks are not really very satisfactory, although they each contain some attractive and original ideas (as well as a number of clichés) and they are generally quite listenable. The only outstanding performance is on the ballad Summertime. Here Ayler stays close to the melody throughout his two solos, concentrating on expressive phrasing to bring out its lyricism: he shows fine rhythmic inventiveness and control, his timing always being both unpredictable and satisfying, and makes extremely telling use of effects of intonation and of dynamics. Henry Woodfin in the above-mentioned article suggests that Ayler’s technique of melodic development comes directly from the work of Sonny Rollins and Thelonious Monk. Although this is possibly so, it must not be forgotten that such techniques go back much further in jazz, and in his approach to this ballad, especially his timing and phrasing, Ayler seems to me to resemble Lester Young rather than anyone else, even though he does not play any actual Lester Young phrases.
The other track of interest is C.T., a free improvisation which is probably the most free that Ayler has attempted—and the least successful. He continually attempts to change tempo, and the rhythm section often seems completely unaware of what tempo he is playing in. The only “rapport” in fact is on the crudest level: Ayler plays a phrase which the drummer repeats, or vice versa. A good illustration of my point about the continuing necessity of a steady beat even in the jazz of today is to be found in this failure.
SPIRITS
Danish Debut DEB146—Transatlantic TRA-130
THIS is the first record of Ayler in helpful surroundings. Norman Howard is on trumpet, and Cecil Taylor's rhythm section is used; Henry Grimes (bass) and Sonny Murray (drums), with another bassist, Earle Henderson, added for Witches and Devils and replacing Grimes on Holy, Holy. (The significance of these titles is probably very small.)
With this record we can begin to examine Ayler's mature style. The 4/4 quality about his playing is very much apparent, especially on the medium tempo tracks Spirits and Holy, Holy, and it is enhanced by Murray's unusually driving (for him) percussion work. Indifferent recording makes it more difficult to assess the basses, but Grimes seems very competent, especially on Spirits. On Holy Holy, Henderson bows the bass a little but gives a rhythmic accompaniment for the rest of the time. As far as Ayler's ability to swing is concerned, it must be admitted that his playing is perhaps a little lacking in drive, but certainly not in ease and relaxation. The authority of Ayler’s phrasing in fact recalls at times the classic blues singers, especially on Witches and Devils, which is based upon a theme resembling a New Orleans style dirge, and is taken at a very slow tempo, with Ayler’s phrasing having something definitely “archaic” and almost anti-modern about it. The relaxation which Ayler's playing always displays is all the more remarkable in view of the rhythmic complexity of his style—Ayler frequently superimposes different rhythms on the underlying 4/4 or creates complex patterns of cross-rhythms.
Many commentators have pointed out that the development of jazz towards an ever-greater complexity has led all too often to a lessening of the ease with which it is performed. Although this is an oversimplified view it has some basis in reality: examples of this development are not lacking in the jazz of today. The very much over-praised “Out to Lunch” by Eric Dolphy (Blue Note) is a particularly painful instance, showing how a self-consciously complex approach can result in an almost complete absence of “swing” in the traditional sense of the word—whatever the record's other qualities may be. Much the same can be said of other recordings by the same Blue Note team. At its best the drumming of Anthony Williams can be stimulating, and the same can be said of Hutcherson and Richard Davis as well: in combination they can often produce a jerky rhythm which moves in fits and starts and seems at times a more appropriate accompaniment for a puppet show or a Disney cartoon than a jazz performance. Considering the pitfalls awaiting those who stray from the “straight and narrow” of the regular, stated beat—pitfalls not always avoided by the boppers of two decades ago—it is certainly encouraging to find a musician able to negotiate the complexities of his style while retaining an easy swing.
Rhythmically, Ayler is characterised by tremendous ease and authority, which on this record is emphasised by the almost arhythmic playing of trumpeter Norman Howard. Melodically Ayler shows a very high degree of inventiveness and is able generally to maintain interest right through his solos even though they are not always perfect from the point of view of overall construction, the Spirits solo in particular seeming to peter out through lack of ideas. Ayler's lines have a lyricism with which the various tones (for the most part anguished and painful) of Ayler’s tenor are deliberately contrasted, so that the feeling of this record, though not exactly madly gay, is not by any means as bitter as some writers, presumably able to hear little else except Ayler’s tone,.have appeared to think. Sometimes Ayler uses a strong vibrato which has led to accusations of grotesque sentimentality: at times Ayler does use this effect excessively, but in general the tremendous strength and conviction of Ayler’s lines again contrasts with this, and the overall impression is not one of sentimentality.
Ayler often makes use of purely rhythmic ideas, many of which are quite lively, so that in spite of the moments of tension the tone of this record is in fact fairly lighthearted, a quality not found to any great extent in his subsequent recordings. This probably accounts for the greater acceptance that this particular record has gained; it was actually voted for by two critics in the Jazz Journal poll last December.
Since this record is distinguished by its melodic and rhythmic attractiveness the comparative absence of overall form in most of the solos is less important, and Ayler’s later recordings show much greater attention to “motivic’” development which is sustained throughout the whole length of the solo.
In the light of this record it is interesting to consider Ayler's possible influences. Although, as remarked above, Ayler shares Ornette Coleman's basic approach, his melodic originality is undoubtedly the greatest in contemporary jazz, and his melodic lines are so far from the accepted type of line in any jazz style that there is a frequent failure to recognize their melodic quality at all. As far as his influences in earlier styles of jazz are concerned, Ayler does not seem able to give us much help himself, alternating between statements such as “I prefer listening to classical music more” and giving long lists of influences which usually include the following: Sidney Bechet, Louis Armstrong, Lester Young, Billie Holiday, Charlie Parker, Freddie Webster, and Clifford Brown, as well as New Orleans Jazz in general, folk music and march music. The folk music, march music, and New Orleans jazz influences are apparent particularly in Ayler's themes, and therefore in his soloing when, as in Witches and Devils it is based on the theme. (Some of Ayler's later solos are not based on any stated theme.)
As far as Ayler’s soloing in general is concerned however, the influences are less obvious. He might follow Bechet’s influence in the strong vibrato of his tone. I would however tentatively suggest that the only clearly discernible influence on Ayler the soloist is that of Lester Young mentioned briefly above. Although Ayler plays none of his ideas and his tone is almost as directly opposed as one could imagine to the “cool” approach (except that Lester Young, like Ayler, is capable of considerable variations in his tone for expressive effect) | do not think that perceiving this influence is pure imagination. Ayler’s long lines, often of unpredictable length, recall those of Young, while he also delights in adding an afterthought” to a line which sounds as though it is already complete. The technique of motivic development is in fact found with Lester Young at least in embryo, and sometimes takes the form of building lines out of repeated riffs, often with a change of interval, devices used to a considerable extent by Ayler.
It is certainly true, of course, that many other jazz musicians have these elements in their styles, and it would be rash to conclude on such evidence that there is a direct influence: but the character of Ayler's lines themselves recalls those of Lester Young. The use of a series of small intervals (the repeated note being the extreme example) and of lines which remain firmly within a narrow band of the instrument's range, with a deliberate contrast achieved by moving unexpectedly into a different register, is one recurrent aspect of the style of both musicians. And while many other jazz musicians, from George Lewis to Eric Dolphy, will make use of a sudden move to the upper register, the use of the lower register for the same striking effect is characteristic of the Lester Young school and also used by Ayler. In both cases such “honking” can at times seem rather gratuitous, a cover for temporary lack of ideas.
Ayler’s concern with the continuity of his lines might be considered to stem from this influence, and it is possibly worth pointing out that in naming Young as an influence, Ayler drew specific attention to “The way he connected his phrases” as well as to the aspects of Pres’ style which are more usually stressed. This continuity of line means that the melodic development often borders on being predictable, and therefore Ayler, like Young, finds his surprises in the unexpected interval, or in his timing, rather than as Charlie Parker does in a surprising phrase or a change of direction within the solo. Doubtless this is what Keith Knox meant when he put Ayler in the “square” category as “lacking the wild unpredictability exhibited by Parker" (in Jazz Monthly of March of this year).
To comment briefly on the individual tracks on “Spirits”: the title track has an attractive solo from Ayler which is, however, poorly constructed: to be more precise it consists of a number of separate structures developed one after the other without being really linked together. Norman Howard's solo is poor both melodically and rhythmically but shows a good sense of building to a climax—there are just rather embarrassing gaps between each climax.
Witches and Devils has, as stated earlier, a theme which recalls a New Orleans dirge, which is played by Ayler with a quavering vibrato which borders on parody (unintentionally, I suspect). Fortunately the solos are more restrained. Norman Howard builds very strongly for most of his solo and shows considerable imagination and sensitivity constructing a very lyrical statement. Unfortunately he goes on just a little too long and his solo becomes rather shapeless towards the end. Ayler is again better, his greater tonal resources and rhythmic and melodic imagination making his work continually interesting, although here again the solo has little overall shape and ends rather abruptly. So does the final theme statement, which is cut off in the middle, for no very apparent reason.
Holy, Holy has by far the best solo from Ayler, with a continual flow of connected ideas and many changes of mood, together with a rhythmic momentum which again breaks down in Howard's solo. The solos are followed by a collective section, (as with the title track which is also introduced by such a section) but here Ayler gives the collective improvisation a greater coherence and significance by recapitulating material from his solo.
Saints is another slow-tempo number with Ayler soloing against a not very helpful accompaniment from Norman Howard. This particular solo is of variable quality, with some brilliant ideas, but also a rather gratuitous use of his exaggerated vibrato which, as | have said, is used effectively elsewhere, at times really becoming a rhythmic force, but which here seems inappropriate. Howard plays a rather incoherent solo and the album ends on this rather lame note.
In all this is however a very fine record. Ayler's playing, in spite of one or two lapses, is very assured throughout and his solo on Holy, Holy will possibly come to be regarded as a classic solo of the 60’s. One fails to see why there should always be talk of having to judge “New Thing” jazz by “new standards”, when a record such as this will stand judgement by the oldest jazz standards of all: the performances have a relaxed swing, and the considerable amount of emotional involvement is well expressed. The sleeve note points out, rather aggressively but nonetheless correctly, that this is not weird music of the future but music which can be enjoyed today by anyone prepared to listen to it.
SPIRITUAL UNITY
ESP 1002
IN view of Ayler’s evident concern with musical continuity it is not surprising that his next recording should reveal a more systematic approach to the construction of his solos. Whereas Ayler’s solos on Spirits make use of the principle of “motivic” or thematic development in order to build up tension in specific passages, on this LP each solo seems to be almost an exercise in this kind of development. In the two versions of Ghosts the development is purely linear, each phrase referring directly to a preceding phrase (usually the one directly preceding)—with this method Ayler builds up, on the 2nd Variation, a really magnificent structure, a musical argument of compelling logic. In the 1st Variation, Ayler is admittedly less successful and, doubtless because of a failure of invention, introduces some irrelevant material which breaks up the development.
The structure of The Wizard (another version of Holy, Holy from the “Spirits” album) and especially of Spirits (unrelated to the earlier Spirits) is considerably more complex. The Wizard is admittedly based on motivic development, as are the Ghosts solos, but whereas with these solos the development moves progressively away from the themes, on The. Wizard there are references back to the theme in the course of the solo, which serve to give an impression of even greater formal control by showing the relationship of the solo to the theme. In this respect it is Spirits however which is the really extraordinary performance, being perhaps unique, in its almost analytic approach to the theme, in all jazz improvising. What Ayler does is to play not one solo, but a series of solos which each begin with the theme, move away and then return once again to the theme. These solos (there are four in all) become progressively longer and progressively more distant in their relationship to the theme. What we have in effect is a sort of moving away from the theme by stages.
The first of these solos consists of no more than a paraphrase of the theme, reorganizing it rhythmically and making use of different intervals but without actually abandoning the original melody. The second solo develops in linear fashion but almost every phrase also relates directly to the theme, and Ayler returns gradually to end up playing the theme once again. Both these first two sections are unfortunately spoilt a little by indifferent contributions from Gary Peacock on bass and Sonny Murray on drums. The third section or “solo” has a thematic development which leaves the theme entirely but then returns to it, while the fourth section represents the normal solo, moving rapidly away from the theme and not returning to it.
Although, as I have suggested, each of these performances is almost an exercise in form, to concentrate on this aspect of the record would be to do it an injustice. The truth of the matter is of course that “form” (a word continually misused by jazz critics) should always be appropriate to content, and if on this record Ayler concentrates on constructing a strong musical argument it is because he has a strong message to put across. The 2nd Variation of Ghosts in particular builds up to a tremendous sustained climax of shifting emotions held together by the almost inexorable logic of the development, The lighthearted rhythms found on the Debut recording are almost entirely absent from this date: there are certainly plenty of rhythmic effects but they are mainly percussive in nature, adding to the emotional force. In addition Ayler places whole phrases or Passages ahead of or behind the beat with a strong accentuation. This creates considerable rhythmic tension, although as indicated above it also has the effect, on the 1st Variation of Ghosts as well as the earlier sections of Spirits, of creating uncertainty in the rhythm section.
In Murray's drumming a considerable change is noticeable from the strongly rhythmic style of five months earlier. On this date Murray concentrates on mainly decorative cymbal work, with occasional use of the snare drum, and throws the main burden of rhythmic accompaniment onto Gary Peacock. In spite of occasional faltering Peacock is a continual source of inspiration with his positive bass line.
As with the earlier recordings, Ayler’s playing is a little lacking in drive but still very relaxed and assured. Ayler seems at times so concerned with creating complex patterns of cross-rhythms that he resembles a percussionist as much as a saxophonist: ‘one very interesting device which suggests an additional rhythmic pattern is the use of a particular note (very lightly accented if at all) which recurs at regular intervals. If Ayler is in any sense at all an innovator it must be in the way in which he has extended the rhythmic resources of jazz soloists.
Ayler’s ability to suggest a multiplicity of rhythms has important consequences from the point of view of the richness, in terms of material, of his solos on Spiritual Unity. It would be easy for the sort of strict thematic development which Ayler uses to become merely obvious or repetitive, due to the restrictions that such an approach places on material. Good examples of this fault can be found in the playing of John Tchichai, where a particular melodic rhythmic idea is often repeated over and over with only very slight variations. One instance of this is to be found on Tchichai’s solo. on Coltrane’s Ascension, where his repetition of one or two rather banal little phrases becomes extremely tiresome. As indicated above, Ayler’s individual phrases are not only more interesting in themselves but because of this the subsequent development of the solo can be less obvious without being less logical. Ayler can, for example, merely suggest a particular rhythmic idea in one phrase and then take that as the basis for a new motivic development. Thus his solos on Spiritual Unity are always changing direction (more so than on any other of his records) without losing the closely argued logic which as I have suggested is what makes Ayler's music so satisfying and powerfully convincing, particularly on this record.
I think that it is no exaggeration to say that Spiritual Unity, taken as a whole, is one of the most satisfying recordings in jazz. It is an achievement which Ayler himself seems unlikely to repeat, combining as it does immense subtlety with tremendously powerful emotional force. One hardly dares to use in connection with Ayler such a word as subtlety, which in current jazz criticism tends to be applied to any musician whose playing is not particularly expressive. Spiritual Unity is final proof, if it were needed, that “subtlety” or “understatement” should not stand in Opposition to the expression of feeling but should rather enhance it.
to be concluded
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