Apart from the occasional quote I've not actually seen any full reviews from Coltrane's 1961 tour of Britain, until Jazz Monthly from February 1962. Norman Granz's tours of Europe always had more than one headline act. In late '61 it was the double bill of Trane and Dizzy Gillespie. The first concert at the Gaumont State cinema on Kilburn High St in London was one week after Trane's last night at the Village Vanguard in NYC. The four night run that gave us Live at the Village Vanguard.
In another blog entry John Coltrane's Only British Tour Steve Gray remembers the Walthamstow show, but as a schoolboy, not a critic. This review by Ronald Atkins paints an accurate picture of the Jazz music scene at the time, and the excitement of hearing the very modern in the shape of John Coltrane and his quintet.
John Coltrane and Dizzy Gillespie in Britain by Ronald Atkins
Perhaps the most unusual aspect of the John Coltrane Quintet's music, which set it apart from any previous group to visit Britain, was that it represented very largely a new experience for local enthusiasts. There is no recording issued here of Coltrane playing soprano-saxophone, none where four or five men improvise for 25 minutes on a single chord, none with a similar interaction within a group. The baffled reception accorded the group at Kilburn is therefore only too explicable. Rather than labour the point about the creeping conservatism of jazz concert audiences, especially ours, and the unwillingness to get to grips with anything that conflicts with preconceived opinions—the lowest form of critical evasion—let us admit that anyone is entitled to dislike what Coltrane was doing, and try to explain what it was that caused the furore. I am in no position to boast about superior understanding, since I was lucky enough to have heard previously the "Africa Brass" LP on Impulse, which gives a better idea of how Coltrane sounds today than any record yet available here. So, what I heard at Kilburn did not come as a complete surprise, though it was certainly getting on that way.
At the second house, where he took two extended solos, one could appreciate just how Coltrane's style on tenor has altered in the last year or so. His tone has lost the almost nerve-chilling purity evinced on records made in 1957-58: apart from the heralded ability to produce two notes simultaneously, he has taken on some of the violent expressive qualities—slurs, squawks, grunts—one associates with Sonny Rollins. His high-register sound has lost its ringing clarity; he now employs those very high notes mostly for contrast and has, conversely, strengthened the range and power of his bottom register. All these changes are connected with the style of the group as a whole, and especially with the role of the drummer, Elvin Jones. Jones rarely lays down what could be described as a regular swinging beat. His cymbal patterns are constantly varied and, in the heat of a fast, driving number, they dovetail with the accents on the rest of his kit. In a sense, he is independent of his fellows; while his accents may have some direct relationship with the basic pulse, however obscure, they have little to do with stating and maintaining that pulse. Adapting himself to this background, Coltrane's own improvisations have become asymmetrical structures, played across the beat, that parallel those of the drums. His phrases are both shorter and more varied than before—on record, compare his Mr. P.C. from "Giant Steps" with Blues minor on the Impulse LP. As his bassist, Reggie Workman, is not a particularly dominating musician, the results might be supposed to lack swing. In fact, the lines of Coltrane and Jones somehow coalesce into a unity of swing and drive that is absolutely overwhelming. Exactly how this happens is not clear to me. Probably these incessant variations on the beat, far from disintegrating it, only throw it into sharper relief (I have utterly rejected a theory that the overt passion in what Jones and Coltrane were playing blinded us as to the absence of swing).
The alto solos of Eric Dolphy, exceptional in themselves, never quite achieved this singular blend with the drums. They did not have the momentum of Coltrane's solos in spite of, or because of, the fact that his phrases were on the whole more regular and more directly patterned on the beat, thereby conflicting with this rhythm section. The newest member of the group, his music seemed a little apart from the abandoned cohesion produced by the others. However, it was invigorating to hear Coltrane and Dolphy follow each other—both taking incredible risks with the harmonies and the metre without stumbling. I would like to have heard more of Dolphy's bass clarinet. McCoy Tyner, the pianist, irritated several people, but he struck me as a most intelligent soloist, with a style somewhere between Tommy Flanagan and Wynton Kelly.
The most controversial part of the quintet's repertoire was the 25-minute version of My favourite things, in 3/4 time, with Coltrane on soprano and Dolphy on flute. The lengthy improvisations by Coltrane, Dolphy and Tyner were not based on any chord sequence other than a repetetive vamp. Towards the end, Coltrane, whose tone is like that of an oboe crossed with a bagpipe, unearthed several eerie chords, and high-register trills, pitted against a sustained low note that sounded almost like an accompanying trombone. With Dolphy also aiming for unconventional effects, this was no ordinary performance. To me, it had a breathtaking, hypnotic excitement, held together by Elvin Jones's ceaseless invention and dynamic contrasts, which built to repeated climaxes that were ultimately resolved in Coltrane's final solo. In short, while some visitors may have surpassed these men in what one may term a total aesthetic satisfaction—I remember particularly Thelonious Monk and Miles Davis—this was unquestionably the most exciting group I have heard, and the most challenging. After such an astounding display, it was inevitable that Dizzy Gillespie's Quintet should provide something of an anti-climax. This does not reflect on how they played, and it is possible that if one heard a tape of the concerts five years hence Gillespie's contribution, to the second house at least, might prove the more balanced and effective. For those who felt a deep emotional involvement in what was necessarily a new and shattering experience, Gillespie's music simply gave one the opportunity to relax. His first-house performance suffered from unsuitable material: after the raw improvising of Coltrane, it was a mistake to begin with two slight pieces of mostly ensemble.
However at the second concert, where he played the Gillespiana suite, he sounded in fine form. The suite, written by his pianist, Lalo Schiffrin, is ideal for Gillespie, since it has given him the chance to work with material that is quite attractive in itself, also contemporary in approach, getting away from My man and small-band versions of Manteca. By 'contemporary', I mean that the work reflects, in part, the influence that such men as Miles Davis and Charles Mingus have had on recent developments. On his last trip, Gillespie even sounded like Davis at times, though now the entire suite is thoroughly 'Gillespiana'. Pungent and attacking on open horn, delicate, yet firm, when muted, he seemed more consistently committed to his music than on previous tours. Leo Wright was excellent on both alto and flute, and has become a musician of some consequence. Schiffrin's piano classicisms have absolutely nothing to do with jazz. They would, however, enable him to be a leading contender in the Brubeck stakes should he so choose. Considering he had only just joined the group, Mel Lewis coped pretty well,though the performance would have benefited by having a drummer more familiar with the different rhythms. Despite some inaccurate pitching, the bassist Bob Cunningham, swung with real enthusiasm in the section.
Some reservations, then, but no complaints after an evening with the new and the not-so-old. It is heartening occasionally to get in on the ground floor and see jazz evolving and one can only hope that a section of the audience will be able to keep up with the music without forgetting everything that happened earlier.
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