In my search for articles I'm finding that quite a few are articulate, intelligent, incredibly insightful and interesting. None more so than this 1971 piece by Barry McRae, published in the Jazz Journal. McRae writes about John Coltrane - The Impulse Years, but expands further outside for perspective and his contemporary position during the 1960s. I've noticed some earlier British articles on Trane miss out versus US journals because it was more difficult to get all the albums. Here however, McRae references not just Trane's Impulse output, but also that of Pharoah Sanders and Alice Coltrane.
Jazz's move toward sounds as opposed to notes remains a gradual one and it has avoided the paths used by both John Cage and Karlheinz Stockhausen. The dividing line between the vocalised adjustments always inherent in the jazz tradition and the total commitment to sound per se is indeed slender. I think it is still correct to say that jazz has avoided this final step. The music of the AACM musicians, or men like Pharoah Sanders, Gato Barbieri and Albert Ayler does not, at any time, use unrelated sound, nor enter any area that could be classified as non-music (in the constructive sense). What they have done is to extend the range of sound that can be used either singly or collectively and to employ frequencies previously considered outside the compass of existing reed instruments.
Archie Shepp and Albert Ayler were prime movers in the early sixties but it was men like John Coltrane, Pharoah Sanders, Roscoe Mitchell. Joseph Jarman and the Sun Ra alumni who pushed the limits a stage further. Frank Kofsky suggested in his recent book Black Nationalism and the Revolution in Music that most of the young revolutionaries had built their styles on the foundations laid by Coltrane. It is hardly true of all the men he lists and such a generalisation is, in any case, misleading. Ayler, in particular was a highly original player but, if sources of inspiration are sought, he is more of a Coleman-type melodist than a Coltrane scale builder. Kofsky conveniently ignores the fact that Ayler was playing in his own individual style as early as 1962—almost two years before Coltrane fully committed himself to his new path. It seems more likely that it was Coltrane who had begun constructively listening to the new players at this time.
Coltrane's role in the jazz of the middle fifties has been distorted in some circles by the fact of his tragic death. The brilliant saxophonist's place in the development of contemporary jazz is never in question. The outcome of his apprenticeship with Miles Davis came to fruition in the gifted quartet with McCoy Tyner, Elvin Jones and either Reggie Workman or Jimmy Garrison. His use of modal bases, the intricate and dense chordal aspect of his own line and his emphasis on the sixteenth note led to the 'sheets of sound' description. All of these things have been chronicled at length elsewhere. The point of this survey is to examine Coltrane's path when he passed beyond this stage. It was a development that had its beginnings as early as 1961 and loosely coincided with his move to the Impulse label.
An important factor was his collaboration with Eric Dolphy which began in 1961 and brought the two men to Europe in the November of that year. Both had been discussing their aims in respect of scales as well as the quarter tone intervals that had become important to Dolphy's style. It was perhaps logical that practical application should be given to their talks, although Coltrane had previously favoured limited harmonic movement, while Dolphy was an effusive romantic. Yet Dolphy, a conservative despite opinions expressed in his early years, did exert influence on Coltrane. It was not the kind of direct influence that amounts to the wholesale borrowing of phrases. Dolphy seemed to make Coltrane more aware that it is not a dissipation of talent to make use of superfluous padding in the body of a solo.
Not that any change was immediately perceptible. In 1962 Coltrane made two remarkably out of character recordings, one with singer Johnny Hartman and the other with Duke Ellington. His playing on these was quite spare but it only reflected his general approach at this time. His 'Ballads' album was similar in that Coltrane stamped his solos as good jazz without resorting to detailed extemporisation. In a way this could be seen as a result of his musical association with Dolphy, in that Coltrane no longer felt the need to explore every scale suggested by one chord, before passing on. He began to allow the shape of the original theme to assert itself more. This was a development that was strongly born out on a ballad like Too Young To Go Steady, although the saxophonist told Frank Kofsky that trouble with his mouthpiece had forced him into a more simplified attitude for some time.
The fact remained that the realignment of ideals was central in the changes that followed. 'Crescent', an excellent album from 1964, was on the surface a normal issue. The title track was Coltrane at his intricate and orthodox best, while Bessie's Blues was another aggressive blues in the 'Plays The Blues' (1960) vein. Wise One and Lonnie's Lament, on .the other hand, are themes that are treated with almost studied circumspection. Coltrane's line is structurally correct and close to Tyner's piano exactitudes. The massive use of scalar permutations plays no part in their rendition and suggests that Trane was then on the threshold of the next stage of his career.
This was soon to be born out by 'A Love Supreme', that followed later that year, and 'Transition', an album presenting two sessions from the early months of 1965. The spiritual involvement, implicit in the titles of both, draws from Coltrane a fierce outpouring in which he allows himself considerable latitude. Typical of these sessions is the title track of the latter, which is a modal-based exposition from which scales flow with an intensity that disguises their ingenious invention. Both featured the regular personnel of Tyner, Garrison and Jones and much of their music was carefully prepared. Coltrane was writing down a great deal of his work at this period and there is no hint of the anarchic irresponsibility suggested by certain superficial observers.
Coltrane's next recording date was very much a contrast and it produced the remarkable and controversial 'Ascension’. It is perhaps logical that, like the pioneers of the bop movement, the free player should seek to translate what was essentially a solo jazz form into a group experience. The boppers placed their innovatory message into the fairly legitimate big band context, while the new players experimented in large collective performances during the sixties. Ascension was one such effort, although Coltrane was never bound by the slightly nebulous term 'free form' and was not committed to the unrestricted melodic freedom that this might imply. Ascension was accused of being multi-lined chaos (as indeed it almost becomes in places). The point is that it was a logical extension of Coltrane's then current style. It uses a slender theme of the type Monk might write and its statement merely contains the widely different voices he used. For their part, there is a great deal of latitude available and the listener is conscious of the vast stylistic gulf between a Tchicai and a Shepp, despite their former partnerships. In an excellent article in JAZZ MONTHLY (January 1970). Jack Cooke maintained that this project owed a lot in its overall conception to Ornette Coleman's 'Free Jazz'. With this I disagree because most of Coltrane's sidemen rely on the minor blues base for the sustenance of their free personal extensions. They are superficially free, but inspection of the solos of Freddie Hubbard, John Tchicai, Marion Brown and the leader reveals that they are based on chords, even if their connection with the thematic starting point is tenuous. In fact, Coltrane used non tonal colouring in a basically tonal environment. The odd moments of self sufficient expressionism by certain players—most especially Pharoah Sanders—are balanced by the majority effort which is in compliance with the established tonal centre.
It is perhaps an opportune stage at which to examine Coltrane's personal motivations. There is little doubt that. like Coleman Hawkins in the bop era and Sonny Rollins at a later date, Coltrane felt an affinity with the younger men. The need to extend himself was almost inevitable for such a natural empiricist and the self imposed restrictions of his own style had begun to impede him slightly. It would have been easy to sit back in the comfort of this proven style, still quite stimulating and obviously financially secure. Certainly there was no simple reason why he should further subdivide his earnings by introducing another horn and a second bassist or drummer. But. Coltrane felt the need to explore the new jazz and to test himself alongside its latest practitioners. In a sense this meant becoming a pupil rather than the grand instructor and he did this by the expedient of emulating King Oliver and his famous invitation to Louis Armstrong. As with that partnership, it was an artistically reciprocal arrangement and brought Pharoah Sanders, an inventive rival, into the Coltrane fold on a permanent basis.
Sanders was a man with a powerful new voice but it is important to remember that he began his career as a Coltrane disciple. His first album was 'Pharoah' on E.S.P. and it indicated that, as recently as 1964, he was one of the men still largely inspired by Coltrane. This is most noticeable on Seven By Seven, where both line and tone hue near to the Coltrane pattern. Its session mate Bethera travels in a similar direction but in it Sanders extends the compass of his playing. Phrases are wrested from their original context for repetition at odd and often surprising later moments and passages of emotive rather than harmonic value colour and elaborate his improvisational process. Perhaps because he is hampered by a rather stilted pianist and an unsympathetic rhythm section, he never assays really free jazz, although orthodox runs are sometimes resolved unnaturally and appropriately wrong harmonies used to good effect.
His development during the next year is considerable and was at least to some extent based on the musical interaction between himself and Coltrane. How much influence was exerted by each individual is debatable but, if we consider records made away from Coltrane, a clearer picture begins to emerge. Sanders is obviously an extremely creative musician, bent on extending his own spectrum to the fullest amount. Without the unifying influence of Trane, however, it seems to diversify too much 'Tauhid' (1966) is tvpical and displays a stylistic range that is too wide. Straight theme statements are clearly delivered and improvisations move from the simple to the most complex. There is also a unique brand of vocalese that is nearer to Schoenbergian sprechstimme than the jazz vocal tradition. Unfortunately there remains a feeling that Sanders is controlled by the material rather than versa.
By the time that 'Jewels Of Thought' (1969) was recorded he seems to have established more consistency of motive, without falling prey to the snare of sameness. In his uncomplicated moments he reverts to his earlier Coltrane inspired style and reserves the baying ferocity of his false upper register work to climax points. In the case (of 'Karma' (1969) there still remains a feeling that he is determined to employ a totally different approach to each of the album’s titles. There was now emerging, however, an inner consistency of purpose, in which melody was the prime motivation and in which Sanders' style unified the disparate In musical situations in which he found himself. 'Deaf, Dumb and Blind' (1970) is even more obviously together.
Sanders plays with real authority and is the most totally unified to date. His solo work on the title track is excellent. It seems to be the rational outcome of the brilliant, but at times, exaggerated music that Coltrane and Sanders made together. It applies the same rules and Sanders follows the shape of the themes closely, using improvisations as means of redesign rather than rebuilding.
On the above evidence it seems reasonable to postulate that Sanders began life as a Coltrane follower. They joined forces and encouraged a musical synthesis to take place, Listening to the folkish quality of the themes they often devised, it is likely that some influence was exerted by the music of Ornette Coleman and, latterly, Albert Ayler. It now seems most probable that it was Sanders who turned their music to more abandoned places and placed the emphasis more on melody and rhythm than had previously been the case.
Two albums in 1965 charted their mutual progress and underlined the way in which they were working toward similar goals. The spiritual aspect of 'Om' and 'Kulu Se Mama' was stressed by Nat Hentoff in their respective sleeve notes. Their real significance, however, is that, although legitimate jazz traditions are observed —two (or three) voice horn polyphony and distinct rhythm section—Coltrane is looking further afield. Since the 'Giant Steps' period (1959) he had shunned jazz structure in the 'chorus bank' sense. Now he was found to be attenuating the European influence. His lines became even more linear and this was a factor less obvious but more significant than the fact that he made his tone more vocalised. For the first time he relegated harmony to a back seat and produced a structure in which the most vital building materials were rhythm and melody. Whether the attempt, on Kulu Se Mama, to Africanise the performance is successful is matter of opinion. I suspect that it will always be impossible to achieve an ideal wedding of such alien forms but out of the bastardisation has grown a style that was meaningful to Coltrane and artistically viable in its own right.
In a way these two albums carried on the ideal of dense counterpoint championed on ‘Ascension'. Obviously a more simplified form was used but consideration must given to the use of two bassists. Their presence was never a rhythmic luxury for they were required to produce two distinct lines, between which the horns could bounce. Garrison is a very inventive player, and on 'Om' in particular, it was his line that set the pace more often than Garrett's and illustrated that although both have spells of prime dominance, the ear follows the more assertive.
On these records Coltrane did not become atonal, but an adaptor of the European language in jazz. From a man who had basically observed diatonic standards, he became a musician prepared go reject them in their absolute form. He turned more to sound values merely based on these standards and, while never wholly non-diatonic, he used African spices to give a non-European piquancy to his cooking. He also made various adaptions to his rhythmic concept.
One of the ways in which the rhythmic aspect changed was in its density. Coltrane in his Impulse period of the middle sixties often used two or even three drummers, at first Elvin Jones plus one other, then gradually Rashied Ali as his first choice. The gifted Jones is reputed to have disliked the 'rhythmic clutter' but, as lack Cooke pointed out, it was on 'Meditations' (1965) that they last worked together. He astutely observed that 'the rhythmic movement produced is dominated by Ali's looser kind of time, rich in rhythmic suggestions but resistant to making any definite metric statement or Viking and stabilising any one particular direction' I suspect that at this time Coltrane was slightly unsure of his best rhythmic course of action and he, for once, played safe by keeping Jones as long as he would stay.
Two important recordings, using only Jones, were also made in 1965. 'New Thing at Newport' and 'Live in Seattle' presented the group on location and demonstrated that, while Tyner and Jones remained, the music deviated little from the format of the early sixties. Coltrane, the only horn on the former, still sounds uneasy with the changing demands of the music. He is occasionally reduced to the use of rudimentary phrases when the flow of ideas is momentarily retarded. On the other hand, Sanders is present on 'Seattle' and this has a favourable effect on Coltrane. No longer required to shoulder the full responsibility for maintaining invention and tension single handed, he appears more relaxed. The element of ferocity is still there and there is a lack of formality, inherent in a live recording, that has a stimulating effect. Without question, Tyner destroys the consonance of Cosmos by refusing to drop out during one particularly ferocious contrapuntal passage for horns. The screams, from the false upper register, clash with the short note values of the piano, although their power and conviction do tend to gain the listener's total attention at the expense of Tyner. On balance, this is one of my favourite records by the group and, weighed against its moments of over-statement, there are passages of the finest jazz, It also shows that Coltrane, although committed to a policy alongside Sanders, was still happy to take an artistic breathing space on familiar material. The first section of Out Of This World provides a haven from the turmoil of his (by then) normal contemporary environment. He approaches the known changes with a strict regard for detail and only stretches out after several choruses. As if to illustrate, however, that he was now a master of all situations, he uses Evolution to show himself as a master of delicate collective playing as well as the frantic all-in. He is the leader on this record in the spiritual and the physical sense.
One problem that had still to be met was that the growing non-diatonic approach to the music was tendering a pianist superfluous for long periods. At best, the instrument was a luxury in the form of an extra (and somewhat restricted) solo voice. McCoy Tyner's vital role in the quartet was now an anachronism. His powerful vamping substructure had accommodated Coltrane in his modal excursions but there was now the need for greater independence within the group. While the group negotiated the difficult transition from one style to another, Tyner countered the problems set him by laying out when obviously obstructing the free sounds of his colleagues and by up-dating his solos with a Cecil Taylor-like flow. Finally it was a change of pianists that gave Coltrane the answer to his dilemma.
Alice Coltrane, who replaced Tyner, made more obvious concessions and was, therefore, better suited to the new group. Whereas the solo work of certain pianists (Morton, Monk and Taylor) offers a skeletal frame on which their orchestral minds build, Mrs Coltrane's solos were a thing apart. Her first album as a leader was 'A Monastic Trio' and this placed her under the microscope alone. It showed that as a solo pianist she relied too much on rococco embellishment and allowed her strong chordal patterns to be attenuated by quite trivial decoration. The merit of her structural thinking is obvious but her rippling arpeggios in the treble belong more comfortably to the palm court. This is not true of every selection on the album, for Gospel Trane is a powerful performance without reference to phoney soul gimmicks.
In purely musical terms she can be a beautiful player, both on piano and harp, and the title track of Journey In Satchidananda shows the transcendental Alice Coltrane playing with tremendous sensitivity on the latter instrument. Perhaps too many arguments have raged as to what constitutes a jazz performance but I personally feel that it is Cecil McBee, Rashied Ali and Pharoah Sanders that place this record in the jazz category. Alice uses a surfeit of phrases from the cocktail realm and is suspiciously ethereal in her approach.
A confrontation with the Coltrane/ Sanders partnership called for a radical self examination and forced the pianist on a different track. It could be argued that some of her gentleness tempered the extremes that might have been explored but both men had already shown sensitivity and an ability to use understatement when the need arose. On recorded evidence it was Alice who made the adjustments and took her directional guidance from the group's principles. In practical terms, her presence meant that, after a period of artistic gestation, Coltrane again had a settled group and a coherent style. The middle of his 'Impulse' period had produced much fine jazz and had vacillated between his previous principles and his new ideas. His entire concept of time, his retention of the 1/ 16th note and his phrase shapes had remained basically the same. What differed was his move to a strongly melodic emphasis.
By 1966 the nucleus of his group was Alice, Pharoah Sanders, Jimmy Garrison and Rashied Ali and it remained so until his death in July 1967. Manifestation (1966) is a typical example of the area in which the band had settled. The essentially melodic approach had dispensed with the need for theme statements. On this title the bass line is free and the two man percussion team (Ray Appleton is the other) provide a loose jointed tattoo, circling each other and also exploiting the contrast between the static simplicity of the tambourine (or similar hand percussion) and the intricate detail of the entire drum kit. Alice Coltrane inevitably sits out on occasions but it is she who provides structural signposts when required. The very simplicity of her backgrounds place her almost in the role reserved for a bass in the older tradition. Unlike Tyner, she never aspires to be a contrapuntal voice on an equal footing with the horns, hers being a genuine rhythm section role. The saxophones are heard both collectively and part, and there is a controlled violence that is well balanced but exciting. Coltrane's work is the more dominating, particularly when powering above the slightly diffident flute but also during the strong two tenor passage.
Reverent King, its session mate from the 'Cosmic Music' album, features Coltrane on bass clarinet. Considering his earlier friendship with Eric Dolphy, it is surprising how little he is influenced by his former sideman. His playing also differs from his tenor or soprano method and it would have been interesting to see the extent of his development had he lived. At this stage, at least, he attempts less than on the familiar horns and tends to produce a rather simplified variation of his soprano style.
Not that all of Coltrane's work of this period generated intense energy or exhibited the elan that verged on overstatement. His beloved Naima (1966) is treated to a really beautiful reading, in which his wife's reserve exerts considerably influence. Sanders also plays superbly and, although his line is more oblique, he observes the thematic progression with scrupulous care. Doubters should relate his solo to the very straight piano chords to see how much Sanders owes to the basic structure even when exercising his imaginative control of rubato.
In a way, history was repeating itself. Coltrane seems to throw in his lot with each new development and follows it with a period of entrenchment before moving off on a fresh track. Each stage matured at its own pace and the most integrated performance from the Impulse period was, indeed, Coltrane's last. 'Expression' gave us the distilled spirit from the turbulent alcohol of investigation. One point was that on all but one title he used only a quartet. Against piano figures best described as innocuous, Coltrane was free to play solos not related to, or dependant upon, another horn. The result was the pure essence of his new style. Comparisons are often odious but on Offering, in particular, he plays in a freer form. He departmentalises the melodic areas of his solos and at times employs phrases that recall Rollins' 'Our Man In Jazz' experiments. Coltrane was influenced to some extent by Rollins in his youthful years and in the early parts of the solo he uses expressions associated with his great contemporary. The later intricate runs are pure Coltrane but he dispenses with continuity in either the thematic or scale development sense.
The result was a demand on Coltrane's inventiveness that he had rarely faced before. Each idea needed to justify itself alone and only on the title track is the solo extended into the scalar permutation area. The new demands are otherwise met with impressively mature understanding of the problems they set, and he plays with an authority not always sustained during the middle sixties. Obviously it would be too simple to see this album as a conclusion, merely because Coltrane did not live to make more. It showed Coltrane's approach to jazz as a soloist at the time of his death. Inevitably it sidestepped the answers to questions that he and Sanders were still posing each other.
Jimmy Garrison said that Coltrane had discovered what he was on earth to do. It was to make beautiful music and this he did. Because he was an artistic empiricist first and a musician second, he did not look for ultimate conclusions. For this reason I feel that the quartet of the late fifties and early sixties is the high water mark of a remarkable career. The Impulses presented perhaps greater challenges, which Coltrane nearly always met. The overall excellence of the earlier body of work is dominating but the Impulse period contains countless examples of spontaneous brilliance that makes jazz so vital a music.
Ref : Jazz Journal, July 1971
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