a power stronger than itself - notes
TRANSCRIPT
A POWER STRONGER THAN ITSELF A FREE JAZZ PRIMER
Compiled and Annotated by JJ Mack
Dedicated to Yuri Broze
Track the First: Art Ensemble of Chicago – Thème De Yoyo From the 1970 Pathé Marconi EMI release ‘Les Stances à Sophie’ The title of this compilation, A Power Stronger Than Itself, is taken from a history of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM), a society formed in 1965 by Chicago musicians working in the nascent free jazz idiom. Even in those heady days of jazz experimentation these artists realized that the prevailing power structures of the music establishment would not be receptive to challenging and innovative black music, and from the outset the core of the AACM was the Art Ensemble of Chicago. Free jazz may mean liberation from the forms and traditions of Western music, but it does not follow that all these familiar concepts are jettisoned in favor of freeform blowouts (though that can certainly happen!). For anyone willing to dip their toes into the ocean of sound that this free jazz, Thème De Yoyo’s combination of the recognizable and the inventive makes it a natural first foray into a sometimes difficult genre. For starters, there’s Malachi Favors’ simple but killer bass ostinato (perhaps my favorite in the jazz canon), and Famadou Don Moye’s supple, elastic, yet eminently groovy drumming that always finds the pocket when it needs to. The three horns juggle melody and dissonance, providing both a hook that can lodge itself in your head and a succinct summary of the emotive power of free playing. A great deal of free jazz is rooted in gospel and the blues, as well as traditional African music, made manifest here in Fontella Bass’s deeply spiritual vocals. And the lyrics are simply awesome. A personal anecdote: during my second year living in Chicago, my roommate and good buddy Hans used his University financial aide to purchase a drum set. He’d practice on that trap for hours, and elicited many a formal complaint from our disturbed neighbors. One day while Hans was practicing the buzzer rang, and from the window one could see standing on our stoop an elderly, bearded black man dressed in a tie-‐dyed shirt, wearing a dǒulì hat and carrying a massive walking stick. When Hans opened the door, the stranger said “That you playing the drums?” Hans replied defiantly “Yeah, why, you want me to stop?” “No!” the stranger replied, “I want to listen to you play!” After listening to Hans play for a spell, the visitor said, “You’ve got potential! Come to my house and I’ll give you lessons.” The gentleman in question was the aforementioned Famadou Don Moye, who lived a few blocks north of us in Chicago’s South Side, and Hans became his apprentice. This is how I learned about the Art Ensemble, and free jazz more generally. A few years later Hans and Moye were living together in Humboldt Park, and one afternoon Hans put Les Stances à Sophie on the turntable. From the moment Thème De Yoyo’s bass line throbbed out from the speakers, I was sold. Everything great about free jazz is here: the extended technique, the elastic rhythms, the sonic inventiveness, the tradition and the disregard thereof, the emotional and spiritual expressiveness. If this cut doesn’t get to you, you may as well turn off this comp and return to your familiar world of tradition and tonality; as far as I’m concerned, this is music at it’s most edifying and enthralling.
Track the Second: Anthony Braxton -‐ 4038 – NBS 373 6 {Composition 23G} From the 1975 Arista Records release ‘Five Pieces 1975’ As further proof that freedom from traditional structure does not necessarily equate to freedom from structure generally, we have this fantastically wonky piece from Anthony Braxton, another member of the AACM. Never mind that Braxton prefers not to be labeled a jazz musician; he emerges from the jazz primordium and his playing his deeply indebted to his jazz forbears and that suffices for our present purposes. Braxton is the consummate composer; while his works certainly contain improvisation, they are fundamentally shaped by the preconceived ideas and guidelines pronounced by the composer. I could rave at length about the incredible rhythmic unison displayed by bassist Dave Holland and drummer Barry Altschul, or the serpentine yet not wholly unmelodic leads played by Braxton on alto and trumpeter Kenny Wheeler; but perhaps a musicologically inclined mind would appreciate Braxton’s own words on the composition:
Composition No. 23G is a thematic generating structure for extended improvisation…the conceptual and scientific dynamics underlying this effect involves the use of extended and open structure devices as a factor to control—determine—the nature of its musical canvas. The basic idea of this work was to create a composition which utilized the traditional 'line' phrase concept but with an added arrhythmic gravallic base. In other words, the basic thrust of this composition is constructed with respect to a given tempo but the accompanied figure that underlines its use is constructed so as to give the impression of being slightly off center. The effects of this 'time shifting' moves to give the work a character of its own and while doing so also establishes the working dictates that determines what solo ingredients can be successfully utilized. The use of 'time-‐shifting' also presents a particular challenge for the rhythm section (which in this work does function as a support unit over which solo explorations are postulated). For the particulars of this approach are not simply to be played as written, and the rhythm section is encouraged to 'play in the spaces of the music'. In the final analysis, this approach moves to create an extended rhythmic track (that shifts so gradually it will be difficult for the listener to determine its sequences) which calls for the use of improvisation with the added ingredient of irregular accents—which are structured (making the work a truly composed improvisational music). The harmonic reality of Composition No. 23G is constructed to utilized chromatic sequenced modulation phrases through its entirely. Also several sections of this work are voiced in minor seconds (something I have experienced many times in the music of Thelonious Monk and Steve Lacy—two musicians who I have long admired) and this technique has a very interesting effect on the vibrational hue of the piece. – Anthony Braxton, excerpted from Composition Notes B (Frog Peak, 1988: 62-‐ 73)
Track the Third: The Ornette Coleman Quartet – Beauty Is A Rare Thing From the 1960 Atlantic Records release ‘This Is Our Music’ The term “free jazz,” while somewhat contested among the jazz cognoscenti, originates from Ornette Coleman’s landmark double-‐quartet recording entitled, naturally, Free Jazz. While the piece that encompasses both sides of that LP is fulminous, dense, and dizzying (and also fucking awesome), the tune presented here is just the opposite, despite being recorded only a few weeks earlier. Beauty Is A Rare Thing demonstrates that the language of freedom can be gentle too, numinous and ephemeral. For in truth, what is beauty if not tender, sublime, and most of all rare? It most certainly is no systematic or proscriptive thing; it is intensely personal and limitless, defying millennia of philosophers’ attempts to define it. Indeed, it can encompass a multitude of emotion, and Coleman’s plangent alto sax opens the tune unspooling melodies by turns melancholic, wistful, pained, and buoyant. The tune is full of space as each musician, listening carefully and responding to the others, adds their own vision of beauty: Don Cherry (a personal all-‐time favorite) plays tart and fanciful lines on his pocket trumpet; Charlie Haden’s arco work on the bass encompasses the slow, dreamlike tones of an awestruck mind and the flutter of a smitten heart; Ed Blackwell’s percussion rolls freely beneath all, and though free of timekeeping duties the drums remain the connective tissue of the piece. Beauty Is A Rare Thing is devoid of any guiding principle save Coleman’s initial melody, yet the instrumental interplay is so captivating that I find myself caught up in its poetry; seven minutes rarely feels so fleeting. Track the Fourth: Archie Shepp – Mama Too Tight From the 1966 Impulse Records release ‘Mama Too Tight’ Step lively! Freeform exchanges of musical ideas take root in the New Orleans marching bands of jazz’s inception, a heritage that Archie Shepp’s powerhouse octet makes explicit on Mama Too Tight. Shepp’s tenor often served as the vanguard for the black liberation movement; the artist himself possessed a probing intellect that encompassed poetry and theatre as well as music, and the album Mama Too Tight served as an examination of Black America’s past and present, its joys, sorrows, and furies. The titular cut moves deftly from a promenading swagger to bop solos, each instrument progressively straying from the head to explore their own exuberance and culminating in the leader’s fervent incantations. Again, the composer’s own words offer insight into the form: “It was my intention to couple in this album, the poignancy of the blues and jubilant irreverence of a marching band returning from a funeral…Where my own dreams sufficed, I disregarded the western musical tradition all together…On the other hand the question is not whether one chooses to be "far out." It is rather the sudden, wonderful, intuitive, transmogrification of one's entire biological, sociological, political being into a single living line-‐so that the moment of performance is less a technological feat than a prayer. At such moments one can call up Ellington, or the eerie sounds of a rain forest at dawn, simply because these things have always been there at the back of the unconscious mind. “ –Archie Shepp, ‘Mama Too Tight’ liner notes
Track the Fifth: Eric Dolphy – Gazzelloni From the 1964 Blue Note Records release ‘Out to Lunch!’ If you were to force me under duress, perhaps at the unfriendly end of a weapon of some sort, to choose but one jazz artist to listen to for the remainder of my days, I’d likely select Eric Dolphy. A brilliant musician, trained both in the classical tradition as well as in the Charles Mingus School of Go Fuck Yourself, Dolphy developed a singular voice on three different instruments: alto sax, bass clarinet, and flute. It is that last instrument on display in Gazzelloni, from Dolphy’s magnum opus Out to Lunch!, featuring regular members of the Blue Note Avant House Band—Bobby Hutcherson on vibes, Richard Davis on bass, a 19-‐year old Tony Williams on drums—who would play on the label’s other outside classics of the mid-‐to-‐late 60s. Unlike other free jazz progenitors like John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman, Dolphy often sought to break the rules within the confines of familiar forms. Gazzelloni is in some respects quite familiar as the tune kicks off with a head melody and is followed by solos, and Williams often keeps regular time on the cymbals like a good bop drummer. Of course, you’d never mistake this number for garden variety bebop; first there’s Dolphy’s flute playing, full of wild intervallic leaps, overblowing and other extended techniques, chromatic yet tuneful. Hutcherson’s vibes are also in fine, original form, alternatively smearing diaphanous chords and punctuating solos with rhythmic counterpoints. The rest of the rhythm section don’t slouch; Davis plays nearly everything except the expected bass lines, and while Williams may do some timekeeping on cymbals the rest of his percussive work is totally free, sometimes more melodic than anything else, other times displaying the polyrhythmic intricacies that he would later showcase in Miles Davis’ Second Great Quintet. And while trumpeter Freddie Hubbard doesn’t necessarily rise to the level of his cohorts, his technical mastery of the bop idiom helps keep the proceedings from galloping off completely into the ether. And if you couldn’t tell yet: yes, I have a predilection for oddball melodies that turn into earworms in spite of—or perhaps because of—their unusualness.
Eric Dolphy considers his instruments
Track the Sixth: Sunny Murray’s Untouchable Factor – Past Perfect Tense From the 1978 Philly Jazz release ‘Apple Cores’ By the mid 1970s whatever support free jazz had received from labels like Blue Note, Atlantic, and Impulse had essentially withered, but the art form remained vibrant. The music simply migrated to independent, often artist-‐owned labels and performance spaces in lofts that were again often owned by the musicians. The music itself continued to develop, at times becoming more visceral and confrontational while at other times, as evidenced on this cut, exploring new depths of gritty yet elegant pulchritude. The band is led by drummer Sunny Murray, who made his bones liberating the trap from the shackles of timekeeping and becoming the exemplum for free jazz drumming in the definitive 60s bands of both tenor saxophonist Albert Ayler and pianist Cecil Taylor. A gorgeous ballad that calls to mind streetlights and alleyways, Murray’s drumming evokes raindrops, the wind blowing through the city, the clatter of subway cars, and the rattle of rats in dumpsters. Composer Oliver Lake’s alto melody opens the piece as though drifting from bar onto the sidewalk, his playing emerging from and returning to the blues but taking flight at any moment like startled pigeons. The freedom of the piece lies not so much in challenging sonics but in the way the players each embark on their own wandering journeys which in sum tell the kind of richly human non-‐linear stories that make up the beautiful and tragic fabric of urban life. Track the Seventh: George Russell Sextet – ‘Round Midnight From the 1961 Riverside Records release ‘Ezz-‐thetics’ Free jazz too has its theorists and conceptualists, and perhaps none has had the significance of George Russell. Laid up in hospital with tuberculosis and inspired by a conversation with Miles Davis, Russell penned the great musicological tome of the jazz era, A Lydian Chromatic Concept of Tonal Organization, in which he rejected the Western tradition and developed a new theory of harmony rooted in jazz. The Lydian Chromatic Theory would be studied and applied by the likes of Miles Davis, Bill Evans, and John Coltrane. Russell was as talented a bandleader as he was a theorist, and hearing the principles of tonal freedom applied to a standard like ‘Round Midnight offers an excellent entryway into this new world. Strange sounds emanate from the contrabass, piano, and brass, clearly setting the scene of this new jazz vista until a piano glissando from Russell introduces the tune’s familiar melody played on alto sax by the great Eric Dolphy. The piece slowly takes a more recognizable shape as it progresses, though Dolphy’s gnarled, knotty and fantastically intricate saxophone keeps the affair from ever really settling. The trumpet and trombone pop in here and there with unusual timbres reinforcing the alien landscape suggested by Russell’s ghostly chords. Eventually the song dissolves back into the formless sound from which it arose.
Track the Eighth: Noah Howard – Ole Negro From the 1969 Freedom Records release ‘The Black Ark’ As the 60s wore on, a new generation of artists arrived onto the fertile and febrile NYC creative music scene, deeply schooled in the breakthroughs of John Coltrane, Ornette Coleman and other free jazz pioneers, and ready to blast through the remaining edifices of tradition. At the crest of this wave was an altoist possessing both incredible tone and titanic power named Noah Howard, who helped refine the approach of controlled chaos. Indeed, Ole Negro is hardly devoid of either form or melody, and Howard deftly balances these structured elements with the more rambunctious solo sections, the tune picking up steam and careening wildly before being guided back onto the rails. The tension between these two elements is what can make this number, and free jazz more generally, so exhilarating. While Howard is capable of impressive feats of sonic aggression, his playing can seem quaint and comforting once the legendary tenor of Arthur Doyle enters the scene. As this is a primer intended to ease the newcomer into the idiom, I have generally avoided the most volcanic examples of free jazz playing, but Doyle here gives a fair sample of the extremes the genre can achieve. A deeply spiritual man schooled in the gospel of the South, Doyle strives for a kind of spiritual exorcism through his playing, using especially soft reeds and actually screaming through his horn to achieve a nigh-‐cataclysmic sound. After Doyle pours molten fire across the track for a minute or so, Howard pulls the plug, and the piece gradually returns to a simmer before revisiting the theme across a quiescent final minutes. If nothing else, Ole Negro shows that even the utterly unbridled is not without its guiding hand. Track the Ninth: Mary Halvorson Quintet – Mile High Like (No. 16) From the 2010 Firehouse 12 Records release “Saturn Sings” The heyday of the free jazz was undoubtedly the 60s and 70s, yet despite a paucity of commercial success and an increasingly indifferent industry infrastructure, the torch of freedom has been passed along to the present, and new territories are being explored by both old stalwarts and young lions…or in this case, a lioness. A student of Anthony Braxton, Mary Halvorson’s guitar playing embraces a wide palette of tones, textures, and techniques while maintain a general agreeability. It calls back to free guitar touchstones like Sonny Sharrock and Derek Bailey yet sounds consistently fresh, a mélange of rapid runs, hammering single-‐notes, chunky block chords, and loopy tremolo that sounds as if she’s playing in reverse. On this piece she leads a cadre of similarly exploration-‐minded young musicians on a varied romp through different settings and moods in under five minutes. While Rock n Roll is clearly an influence on the composition, especially in drummer Ches Smith’s charging rhythms, Halvorson cites Thelonious Monk, Sam Cooke, Archie Shepp and Dmitri Shostakovich as inspirations as well. This is the sound of free jazz in the 21st century, more heavy, more diaphanous, more gloriously cacophonous than ever.
Track the Tenth: Sun Ra & His Astro Infinity Arkestra – Day By Day From the 1970 Saturn Records release ‘Holiday For Soul Dance’ No figure looms as large over the totality of outsider jazz, and none more intimidating and at times inscrutable than the magnificent, tyrannical, and prophetic visitor from Saturn, Sun Ra. Name an innovation or extreme in jazz, and Sun Ra probably explored it, mastered it, and moved on from it long before anyone else. With a catalog that numbers into the hundreds and penchant for being willfully inaccessible, Sun Ra is no easy nut to crack for the free jazz neophyte. So where to start with Sun Ra? Despite his many forays into the unknown, Sun Ra had a lifelong passion for jazz standards and Ellingtonian arrangements. The Arkestra’s snappy reading of Day By Day (perhaps best known as a Sinatra ballad) is probably the least “out there” performance on this compilation, yet careful listening reveals many of Sun Ra’s hallmarks. There’s the alien introductory passage, the unusual harmonies in the horns, and the Monkish herk-‐a-‐jerk and singular phrasing of Ra’s piano playing, all of which would come into full flower as the Arkestra entered it’s mature phase (although released in 1970, this tune was recorded circa 1960-‐1 during the band’s Chicago period). The only thing this cut really lacks is a showcase for my favorite tenor saxophonist of all time, Arkestra-‐stalwart John Gilmore, though altoist and certified badass Marshall Allen does get to take a nice solo. Aside from serving as a bit of a palette cleanser as we head into this comp’s final stretch, I hope this number shows that even the most impenetrable of free jazz icons have their entry points if we’re willing to dare that first step.
A performance by Sun Ra’s Arkestra was as much a visual spectacle as an aural one, including costumes, dancers, and elaborate stage decorations.
Track the Eleventh: Philip Cohran & The Artistic Heritage Ensemble – El Hajj Malik El Shabazz From the 1968 self-‐released album ‘The Malcolm X Memorial (A Tribute In Music)’ Kelan Philip Cohran was a founding member of the AACM, an early member of Sun Ra’s Chicago Arkestra (he plays cornet on the previous tune), and inventor of an electrified version of the kalimba called the Space Harp, or Frankiphone. When Sun Ra moved his Arkestra to New York City, Cohran stayed behind and became the godfather of black creative music in Chicago. Cohran was as interested in exploring the ancestral music of Africa as he was the new musical possibilities of free jazz. He often composed on an orchestral scale, and his ambitious compositions rank as amongst the most impressive and unfortunately overlooked in the free jazz canon. This piece is the concluding movement to Cohran’s massive four-‐part opus The Malcolm X Memorial, which follows the icon’s life through music from his earliest years to his apotheosis presented here. An incredibly rich tapestry of scintillating congas, densely clustered chords, brass palpitations and fulminating, operatic vocals, El Hajj Malik El Shabazz is not simply the capstone to a tremendous piece of music but a testament to the symphonic majesty that free jazz is capable of. Track the Twelfth: The Bill Dixon Orchestra – Nightfall Pieces I From the 1967 RCA Victor release ‘Intents and Purposes’ One of my favorite aspects of free jazz is how the freedom of the medium allows composers to create musical works that are more like the aural equivalent of the visual arts rather than a more familiar tune. Trumpeter and bandleader Bill Dixon was a maestro of sonic color, using instruments the way a painter would his brushes. The hushed loveliness of Nightfall Pieces I distills this talent to a bare four minutes of sfumato flutes and chiaroscuro flugelhorn; Dixon explores the timbral possibilities of his instrument fully, capturing the spectrum of crepuscular sounds while never relinquishing the piece’s fundamental tranquility. George Marge’s multi-‐tracked flute contextualizes Dixon’s horn wonderfully, conjuring dusky birdsong and the last lingering rays of sunlight. While the piece is utterly free, the listener never feels lost, except perhaps in the contemplations of the composer.
Bill Dixon in his classroom: Dixon was also a revolutionary educator.
Track the Thirteenth: Roscoe Mitchell Sextet – The Little Suite From the 1966 Delmark Records release ‘Sound’ We close this exploration of free jazz by returning once more to the AACM with perhaps the most difficult piece on the compilation. Multi-‐reed genie Roscoe Mitchell, founding member of the Art Ensemble of Chicago and one of the AACM’s earliest members, is truly a jazz iconoclast. Equally as interested in the ideas of the European classical avant-‐garde as he was the explosive new sounds emanating from New York City and a lifelong proponent of “great black music, ancient to the future,” Mitchell has never been afraid to embrace that which other musicians shy away from, especially with regards to mood and orchestration. The Little Suite—from Sound, Mitchell’s aptly titled debut as a leader—is a perfect example of this restless creativity. While many of his contemporaries were reacting to their social realities by making music filled with rage, protest, and density, Mitchell here utilizes the free idiom to explore humor and mirthfulness. Although filled to the brim with dissonance and outside playing, The Little Suite is playful and at times downright funny, especially the moments when it launches into a deranged Merry Melodies march. These purposes are furthered through the regular use of “little instruments,” everything from toy whistles to bicycle horns. The Art Ensemble would continue investigating the full range of emotive possibilities with these instruments, but here in their earliest use they are undeniably mirthful. The other notable quality of this piece is the use of empty space; where the New York practitioners of “fire music” would fill every inch of space with torrents of sound, Mitchell gives The Little Suite plenty of room to breathe; the full Sextet is rarely engaged in toto, allowing the listener to consider each element and its relation to the rest. The instances of full band playing, however, are delightfully riotous; it’s hard not to hear the musicians having a good time. While Mitchell and later the Art Ensemble would produce art of significant gravity, they never overlooked the history of joyful noise deeply ingrained in many African and African-‐American musical traditions. Free jazz gives composers and musicians the broadest canvas possible on which to probe their ideas, philosophies, and emotions. It is an unfiltered conduit from human being to human being; through this music, we can become connected across any divide. Conclusion -‐ An Ongoing Voyage: Whither Then? I hope you’ve enjoyed our brief perambulation through the world of free jazz, or at the very least come away from the experience with a deeper appreciation of the technical demands and variety of sounds, emotions and experiences that the genre encompasses. If you’re keen to continue the journey, there are many ways to do so, the most obvious being a consideration of the full albums from which these tracks were drawn. This compilation has made almost no mention of European Energy Music, free jazz giants like Cecil Taylor, or the Holy Trinity of Free Jazz: the Father (John Coltrane), the Son (Pharoah Sanders), and the Holy Ghost (Albert Ayler). While this comp has shied away from cacophonous slobberknockers and full-‐tilt blowouts, one wishing to experience the awesome power of such should consider John Coltrane’s Ascension, Cecil Taylor’s Conquistador!, and of course Ornette Coleman’s Free Jazz. Finally, Valerie Wilmer’s wonderful book, As Serious As Your Life, is an indispensible companion and field guide for further adventures in free jazz. -‐JJM