Ornette Coleman – The Shape of Jazz to Come

The Shape of Jazz to Come

Ornette ColemanThe Shape of Jazz to Come Atlantic SD 1317 (1959)


Ornette Coleman’s second album as a leader has the bold title “The Shape of Jazz to Come” (selected by the producer Nesuhi Ertegun) and few albums earn such bold statements as this one does.  His music has always pushed anarchic tendencies.  In 1959, he was still accustomed to the format of bop and hard bop, and those habits of thought definitely inform this music.  The songs open with a head played by the entire group, and the performers trade solos before returning to the head.  Now, the catch is that both the head and those solos don’t sound at all like any others around in 1959, excepting perhaps a few forward-thinking performers like Cecil Taylor and Sun Ra.

The opening “Lonely Woman” is perhaps the single best-known Coleman composition.  The sour, dissonant melody played by Coleman on his plastic alto sax (he was unable to afford a metal one in his early career) and Don Cherry on cornet stumbles along, falling forward.  Ornette said he composed the song after coming across a painting of a wealthy woman who looked sad to him.  As was Ornette’s key approach to music, the song features unusual improvisation with the players free to melodically improvise without fixed harmonic relationships to each other or a tonal center.  The result is that music theory and the limiting rules inherent in that kind of knowledge are subordinated (if not completely discarded) to the ideas (Ornette referred to “emotion”) that the performers hold form in their performances.  The performers may have been habituated to the format of bop jazz, but they were clearly heading in a completely different direction.

When Ornette plays a slurred trill on “Eventually,” he almost sings into his horn in a way that drives home the new set of values embodied in the music.  For if anything, Ornette’s music represented the expression of different political choices that couldn’t be expressed in the old forms.  So he crafted new ones.  When you hear this, note how fun and happy much of the music is at its core.  In a context in which feeling good expressing yourself without guilt is deemed unacceptable, then going ahead is radical.  But with Ornette, he does this amazing thing.  He fights for this arena to express things in music without positioning himself as some kind of messiah-like figure with unique talents.  The way he plays makes you think you could maybe do it too.  The Italian filmmaker and poet Pier Paolo Pasolini said in an interview, “My nostalgia is for those poor and real people who struggled to defeat the landlord without becoming that landlord.”  This is precisely what Ornette’s music represents, and why it seems right to have a certain fondness for The Shape of Jazz to Come decades later.  You can gauge anyone’s politics by how they react to this album — those who want to retain modes of domination in society won’t take a liking to it.  And people who claim Ornette had limited abilities should be asked: by whose standards?

It is a commentary on the lack of meritocracy in the world, but Ornette owed much of his “break” into the professional music world to John Lewis of The Modern Jazz Quartet, who helped Ornette find gigs, a record label and gain some kind of credibility from an endorsement by an acknowledged star.  Of note, though, is that it was a respected musician like Lewis, who had a masters degree in music and taught music at prestigious conservatories associated with European classical music, had enough credentials to allow him to support Ornette’s music without being criticized as not knowing what he was talking about.  Other self-taught musicians who lacked such institutional credentials would risk being labeled as know-nothings for supporting Ornette’s music.  But, all that aside, Ornette did well with the opportunities available to him.

With his time in the spotlight on Atlantic Records, Ornette recorded music as radical as anything heard before in jazz.  Musicians who worked their entire lives to perfect their skills playing chord changes were probably chagrined to see Ornette throw all that out and place an emphasis on other elements, improvising with composition as much as interpretation in his solos.  The more open-minded found in Ornette a visionary.  No doubt, Ornette had a much more individualistic conception of musical performance than most listeners (and society writ large) were ready to accept in the late 1950s, which is to say he thought everyone should have much more latitude to express themselves in their own ways without deference to established modes of expression (which invariably are the products of institutions that reproduce social hierarchies).  So perhaps under the old critical standards this music is played “poorly”, but the point is that the old standards are self-serving and this music steps outside them.

Ornette plays in a harsh way, with a sound always about a quarter cent sharp.  This was partly due to playing a plastic Grafton saxophone.  But even after he bought a new metal one, his sound retained its biting qualities.  It was simply his sound.  Don Cherry played cornet in a similar way.  He had a knack for keeping to Ornette’s melodic lines with a characteristic phase-shift, always a split second off of Ornette’s timing.  Bassist Charlie Haden plays with a warm, R&B tinge, occasionally playing double stops (“Focus on Sanity,” “Chronology”) in a fluid, buoying way that contrasts with the dissonant horns.  Drummer Billy Higgins is basically a very forward-thinking bebop drummer, who grew into the free jazz movement.  His playing is rather rooted in bop structure here, which is a major reason why The Shape of Jazz to Come is an easier listen than some of Coleman’s later works with more free-wheeling percussion and rapidly shifting polyrhythms.

“Peace” is the longest track here, and the group plays with a lot of space, at a slower tempo.  The song says as much in the notes left out as in the ones played.  Is peace about their being less in the world?  Less what?  Take a listen and wonder.

The Shape of Jazz to Come is certainly one of Ornette’s most likable albums.  He made more challenging ones, in hindsight at least.  The vestiges of bop structures make this a bit less demanding, without being a cake walk.  Any jazz education should include this album as essential listening.  Yet this is also a work well worth revisiting.  If the flaws of this album are the ways it can’t get past bebop structures entirely and the overabundance of optimism about unleashing music this radical, those are as endearing as flaws come.

The Ornette Coleman Trio – At The “Golden Circle” Stockholm, Volume One

At The "Golden Circle" Stockholm, Volume One

The Ornette Coleman TrioAt The “Golden Circle” Stockholm, Volume One Blue Note BST 84224 (1966)


In 1962 Ornette briefly retired from recording and public performance. He returned to public performance in 1965, after teaching himself violin and trumpet, and then spent the remainder of the decade bouncing between record labels.  He recorded a number of albums for Blue Note in the late 60s, as that label started to fade from prominence.  Both just before and after his retirement he worked with a trio featuring Charles Moffett on drums and David Izenzon on bass.  Most of the Blue Note recordings are considered somewhat second-rate entries in the Coleman catalog.  But two volumes of live recordings from Sweden at the “Gyllene Cirkeln” club have definitely withstood the test of time and can stand alongside Coleman’s best work.  It was Ornette’s first tour of Europe.

The music here is a refinement of what Coleman did in the late 1950s and early 60s with his combo that featured trumpeter Don Cherry.  There is a lightness and optimism in this music that is rather rare in free jazz circles, where dour seriousness all too often predominate.  Coleman plays many songs here with melodies that could well double as nursery rhymes.  The sparseness of the trio format, without any other horn to play harmony with Ornette, and with Izenzon and Moffett both playing in ways that recall standard bop jazz, make this music a bit less demanding on the ears than Coleman can sometimes be.  But for all those reference points, this music also reflects the growth and change in Coleman’s music from the preceding years.  This is transitional music.  The amazing thing about Coleman is that no matter how radical his approach to music was, it wasn’t static.  Here, the radicalism comes in a most unexpected way.  It introduces complex, novel structures by appearing to do anything but that.

These songs often find Coleman playing for a long time, without repeating himself and without relying on another wind player to add independent melodic statements (much like on Chappaqua Suite, recorded earlier the same year).  He also throws in short little riffs of surprising complexity.  No, this is not a performer limited to simply melodies; this is a performer choosing to play them.  The effect all this brings about in the music is subtle.  At any moment, Ornette doesn’t seem to be playing differently than he was five years earlier, but he’s playing that way for so much longer without tiring that this represents a whole new level of that same type of playing.  Reaching that new level opened up new horizons for compositional structures in the music.  The group doesn’t return to “heads” (group statements of a theme) in a planned way, as on early Coleman recordings.  Izenzon and Moffett are largely free to solo simultaneously with Ornette — though both are fairly restrained players who do so without much flash or pageantry.  This becomes the heart of Ornette’s musical theory of “Harmolodics”.  This is a trio of musical equals.  None of the instruments is privileged over the others.  Moffett plays a key role in this.  His drumming is bop-inflected, but also more skittering and decentered.  He drops a few bass/kick drum “bombs” like Art Blakey, but he works in a lot of hi-hat rides and runs on his tom drums during Ornette’s playing time, with a touch so light and effortless that he turns what would be a Blakey solo feature in a Jazz Messengers performance into supportive “accompaniment” that suits concurrent playing by the other trio members.  As the players work together, they are able to react and shift directions as a unit, without tearing the fabric of the performance apart abruptly.  Rarely does jazz performance this angular and sharp sound, if not smooth and easy exactly, at least as smooth and well-incorporated as it does.

There is an earnestness in this music that makes it difficult for even Coleman detractors to bag on it.  At The “Golden Circle” Stockholm, Volume One is certainly Coleman at his most approachable.  It is probably advisable for newcomers to his music to start closer to the beginning, with some of the Atlantic recordings; however, this live set makes for an excellent second course, so to speak.  His music reach a pinnacle of complexity in the coming decade, as he began to realize works at the furthest reaches of what his “harmolodics” concepts suggested in music.

Minnie and Moskowitz

Minnie and Moskowitz

Minnie and Moskowitz (1971)

Universal Pictures

Director: John Cassavetes

Main Cast: Seymour Cassel, Gena Rowlands


Cassavetes’ Minnie and Moskowitz is the story of a couple’s oddball romance.  The basic plot is adapted from that of Marty (1955).  But Cassavetes puts a wider social chasm between the two main characters.  Seymour Moskowitz (Seymour Cassel) is a sub-proletariat hippie who works as a car park attendant, whose mother sees him as a hopeless case with a downward trajectory in life.  Minnie Moore (Gena Rowlands) is a museum curator who rubs shoulders with wealthy art aficionados, though she comes from a middle class background.  Despite characteristically uncomfortable scenes and intensely raw acting, this is Cassavetes at his most conventional and accessible.  Yet this film succeeds on multiple levels, not just as a light comedy/drama.  The main characters have a tumultuous relationship.  There is nothing easy about them coming together.  They have plenty of inhibitions, brought on by the stress and fears and discrimination and loneliness and limitations of their individual lives.  It is hard for them to let go of those things, however much misery those things bring them.  And the people around them are mostly selfish and rude, or just unable or willing to open up to others.  Minnie, in particular, has a hard time accepting Seymour, because she is part of a much higher social strata that tends to sneer at the likes of him.  Her real-life husband Cassavetes plays her (ex) boyfriend Jim, a married man who won’t leave his wife.  She is surrounded by people who seem only interested in how she fits into plays for status — Jim with his stable of women or a blind date (Val Avery) trying to be less of a sad sack without a wife like a successful guy like him “should” have.

But the real heart of the film is that the tumult and conflict all serves to bring two people together.  Their relationship is a choice, and they choose to transcend the many, many obstacles put in its way.  The sweetness of Minnie and Moskowitz is that it is a romance tale that suggests social inequities can be overcome, and that relationships can play a part in making the world a more accepting place.  This is what distinguishes it from Marty, which is a wonderful movie with superb acting but one that relies upon the (essentialist) idea of characters settling for something and discovering what they “really” are and “really” want.  Cassavetes’ film is about the characters becoming something more than what they were at the start.  That is especially true for Moskowitz, who goes from being someone drifting along on nothing more than simple pleasures to having a larger purpose.  This may not be Cassavetes’ best or most ambitious work, but it is one of his most likable films.

Black Armed Resistance

Links to books about black armed resistance in freedom movements:

Negroes with Guns (1962) Robert F. Williams

We Will Shoot Back: Armed Resistance in the Mississippi Freedom Movement (2013) Akinyele Omowale Umoja

Negroes and the Gun: The Black Tradition of Arms (2014) Nicholas Johnson

This Nonviolent Stuff’ll Get You Killed: How Guns Made the Civil Rights Movement Possible (2014) Charles E. Cobb, Jr.

The Deacons for Defense: Armed Resistance and the Civil Rights Movement (2004) Lance Hill

The Deacons for Defense and Justice: Defenders of the African American Community in Bogalusa, Louisiana  (2000) L. LaSimba M. Gray Jr.

Bonus links: “Kurdish Women’s Radical Self-Defense: Armed and Political” and “Statement of Support for Black Lives Matter and Defund the Police”

Willie Nelson and Sister Bobbie – December Day

December Day: Willie's Stash Vol. 1

Willie Nelson and Sister BobbieDecember Day: Willie’s Stash Vol. 1 Legacy 88875017012 (2014)


Willie Nelson and his sister Bobbie have been performing together their entire lives.  Bobbie has always been a rock of consistently complimentary playing.  Many of Willie’s finest recordings feature her prominently.  December Day, though, is a goof.  The two regularly play on their tour bus, and this album is meant to document the way they play together on that tour bus, away from their fans.  Unfortunately, that results in an album that sounds like a bunch of performers who have played these songs a few hundred times too many noodling about trying to entertain themselves with arbitrary variations from their usual public performance styles.  This amounts to a bunch of hi-fidelity demo recordings of uncertain value.  December Day only serves to reinforce how much better these two have performed these songs elsewhere.  The best here is the rendition of “Permanently Lonely.”

David Harvey – The Seventeen Contradictions and The End of Capitalism

Seventeen Contradictions and The End of Capitalism

David HarveySeventeen Contradictions and The End of Capitalism (Profile Books, 2014)


Admittedly, I did not read all of this book.  I did read enough to have my fill though.  David Harvey has achieved that status of academic respect that allows him to release books in which he pontificates about his opinions without regard for much other scholarship, and people nonetheless print those books and read them.  He adopts an air of aristocratic self-importance such that he can discuss other scholars and simply say he does like them.  Support?  Research?  Logical critique?  None of those.  Just the wave of his withered, regal hand — he doesn’t like those other theories.  That is the problem with Harvey.  He’s dispensing his own theories by monologue, not testing them.  The premise of this book is to be an accessible, high level discussion of the inherent contradictions of capital (not capitalism).  Time and again, Harvey reveals his rigid, old-fogey commitment to old theory and his readiness to dismiss all ideas outside his conceptions of orthodox marxism and class reductionism.  Where he’s best is in detailed discussions of the particulars of contemporary urban real estate and associated geography.  But while he has updated the descriptions to fit the modern context, his illustrations add nothing to what has been written a century ago (Absentee Ownership and Business Enterprise in Recent Times: The Case of America).  Pass.

Frank Sinatra – September of My Years

September of My Years

Frank SinatraSeptember of My Years Reprise FS-1014 (1965)


A great one.  What really makes the album are the strings, arranged and conducted by Gordon Jenkins.  They are Sinatra’s burden.  He doesn’t sing with the strings as against them.  Rather than cater to rock music (gaining popularity over traditional pop by this point), here he’s singing lush pop songs fit for a “mature” place in life.  Many songs explore the idea of looking back.  The strings have a rather generic quality.  They are suited to the songs, but not especially tailored to Sinatra’s voice.  So when Sinatra sings, he has to sort of carry the songs over and above those strings, which are like a lifetime of baggage.  And Sinatra is a singer who can absolutely carry these things along with his voice alone.  This is Sinatra at his somber best.

Sun Ra – Angels and Demons at Play

Angels and Demons at Play

Sun Ra and His Myth-Science ArkestraAngels and Demons at Play El Saturn Records LP 407 (1965)


The arrival of Marshall Allen to the band in no small part allowed the Arkestra to fully realize the afro-futurist elements in Sun Ra’s music beyond song names and album jacket poetry.  Allen’s flute and Phil Cohran‘s zither do a lot to distinguish the recordings that make up side one from material with distinct big band reference points on side two.  The exotica of someone like Les Baxter was starting to seem a more apt comparison than Fletcher Henderson in those instances.  Great stuff and really a worthy stop on any journey through the Earthly recordings of Sun Ra.

The opener “Tiny Pyramids” (written by Ronnie Boykins) is a dead ringer for Buddy Collette‘s “Blue Sands” (as recorded with Chico Hamilton‘s Quintet) — both open with irregular drumbeats then have prominent minor key flute, with a middle-eastern flavor, though Sun Ra’s version has prominent two-part harmony unlike the Hamilton recording.  “Between Two Worlds” makes use of staccato arrangements, with harmonies from the horns broken up so that what could maybe pass for a typical detective movie or TV show chart is stripped of its familiarity and becomes more unsettling.  The music on side one gets progressively more otherwordly, with Cohran’s zither playing high-pitched strums that cut like shards of glass, and bassist Ronnie Boykins occasionally playing arco (with bow).

As Sun Ra frequently programmed albums in the early/mid 1960s, side two is completely unlike side one.  The Arkestra is playing big band music with more typical horn solos trading off each other.  Side two was recorded four years earlier than the material on side one, with basically an entirely different set of musicians (only John Gilmore and Sun Ra appear on both sides of the album).  “A Call for All Demons,” with a few “tick tick” rhythmic figures on a wood block, quizzical horn charts, and Ra plunking out tipsy individual notes and short clusters of notes on the piano, is one probably the best-known song from the album.  It shifts from dramatic and ominous arrangements with plenty of space to more regular boppish soloing, then it’s on to Ra playing electric keyboard briefly before seguing back to an arrangement like the opening of the song.  It is a mean feat that Ra is able to accomplish the shifts between quite different styles as seamlessly as he does, compressing a mini-suite into a performance just over four minutes long.