bobthiele

Coltrane

Trane’s classic quartet creates a 5-star album, weaving DNA from ‘Ole!’, ‘My Favorite Things,’ and the nascent ideas that would build ‘A Love Supreme’ and ‘Crescent.’ @johncoltrane fans had a lot to unpack in the early 60s. The success of his Atlantic recordings like ‘Giant Steps’ and ‘My Favorite Things’ catalyzed a flood of reissues from his late 50s hard bop Prestige sessions. Simultaneously Trane was pissing-off critics with what they described as an “anti-jazz,” avant-garde-tinged residency with Eric Dolphy at the Village Vanguard. He made his first (and last) big band record. So when this record appeared in the shops who knew WHAT to expect? Greatness. Expect greatness. While it’s impossible to know an artist’s mind, perhaps the criticism of Trane’s edgier music stung. So while the same drive and energy of the Vanguard gigs are present here, the sharp edges are absent. The opening 14-minute, aptly-titled of “Out of This World” is a profound modal excursion, as strong as anything the quartet recorded for the label. You get a moment to catch your breath with the lovely balladry of Mal Waldron’s “Soul Eyes” before getting thrown back into intensity with an almost unrecognizable take on “The Inch Worm” (the first track to be recorded for this LP). The heat continues with the Trane original “Tunji,” named for percussionist Babatunde Olatunji. Here, Trane & Co leverage their collective skills as a team, with a deceptively simple piano/bass chord structure upon which Trane weaves a powerful, complex solo; and suddenly, somehow by the time McCoy Tyner is building a helluva solo of his own, it’s a blues number. Also, Elvin Jones deserves a Nobel Prize for his drumming on this track—superb. The album closes with Trane’s “Miles’ Mode,” an all-out, full-contact throwdown where everyone comes to play and play HARD. Restraint? That’s the other guy’s problem. So all-in-all, this mysteriously under-valued title in John Coltrane’s impressive catalog is a MUST HEAR, and in my opinion, MUST OWN title. Spin it now. You’ll be glad you did

John Carter/Bobby Bradford ‘Flight for Four’

Quite a record, but not for the timid, and if you’re looking for melodic, mellow grooves to begin/end your day, you might wanna look elsewhere. Be prepared to spend some time wandering the multitude of harmonic pathways herein—this is music for the mind. John Carter (saxes/flute/clarinet) and Bobby Bradford (trumpet/cornet)—both originally from Texas but transplanted to Los Angeles—discovered they were of similar musical mindsets after becoming acquainted through mutual friend and fellow Texas expat Ornette Coleman. Recruiting bassist Tom Williamson and drummer Bruz Freeman, they recorded this gem in 1969 for the Flying Dutchman under the supervision of producer Bob Thiele. ‘Flight for Four’ has become a bit of an underground legend—a marriage of post-bop and free jazz that packs A LOT into its grooves. The album is deeply conversational…dialog ebbs and flows freely, shifting rapidly from quartet to double duo to soliloquy and then back again. However unlike many freer jazz records, this one never explodes into an onslaught of high velocity honking, or descends into droning atonality. Instead, it has the feel of a complex murder mystery series, where there’s no one central character, no urgency to find the killer, and it’s never quite clear who is on which side of the law. Ultimately it doesn’t matter—the storytelling is so compelling you just hope it gets renewed for another season. There’s also a perpetual blues undercurrent that keeps things firmly in the realm of post bop jazz, even in its furthest-out moments. Ultimately, while this doesn’t always swing in any sort of obvious way—sometimes the pulse is thready—the compositions retain enough structure and players enough interpersonal groove that it rarely sounds chaotic. I still don’t fully understand this album, but I’m having a blast trying! Flying Dutchman FDS-108, stereo, 1969