Spirit of Memphis – Happy in the Service of the Lord (1949-1954)

Happy in the Service of the Lord (1949-1954)

Spirit of MemphisHappy in the Service of the Lord (1949-1954) Acrobat ADDCD 3007 (2005)


Top notch gospel.  The Spirit of Memphis had some of the best vocalists around during the 1949-1954 period represented on Happy In the Service of the Lord.  Stylistically, they weren’t innovators exactly, but followed the lead of The Soul Stirrers.  That is hardly a limitation.  Pretty much every track here is a winner.  Anyone interested in golden age black gospel will find a lot to like.  This is one of the best compilations of its type available.

The Ornette Coleman Quartet – This Is Our Music

This Is Our Music

The Ornette Coleman QuartetThis Is Our Music Atlantic 1353 (1961)


The biography of Ornette Coleman in the late 1950s and early 1960s is fascinating.  He recorded all his early studio albums in Los Angeles, and This Is Our Music came from his first sessions in New York City in later summer of 1960.  A lot had happened since he departed L.A. for good.  For one, he had finally, after many years, secured a running stand of gigs performing live (at The Five Spot Cafe) in 1959, and had become a polarizing sensation in the New York jazz world.  He followed that with a tour, and then back to more gigs in New York City.  What is more, while continuing to work with core collaborators Charlie Haden (bass) and Don Cherry (trumpet), his working band underwent an important shift.  Drummer Billy Higgins lost his cabaret card (essential for live performers in New York City at the time), which provided Ornette with the opportunity to reunite with innovative New Orleans drummer Ed Blackwell, who moved the group’s rhythmic structure further away from bebop.  Blackwell was an old friend of Ornette’s.  Suffice it to say, this version of the Ornette Coleman Quartet was well versed performing together by the time they entered the studio to record what became this album.

In the liner notes to the following year’s Ornette!, Gunther Schuller described the overall structure of an Ornette solo this way:

“Little motives are attacked from every conceivable angle, tried sequentially in numerous ways until they yield a motive springboard for a new and contrasting idea, which will in turn be developed similarly, only to yield another link in the chain of musical thought, and so on until the entire statement is made.”

This almost equates Ornette’s musical approach with the cubism of the likes of Picasso, a style frequently described as when a visual artist depicts a subject from a multitude of viewpoints in a single work.

George Russell also commented in 1960 about his own concept of “pan-tonality” and how Ornette represented a kind of implementation of an overall sound not bound to any one tonal center, whereby, as critic T.E. Martin later added (“The Plastic Muse, Part 2,” Jazz Monthly June 1964), all tonalities are possible.

Ornette and his sidemen have never offered any satisfactory explanation of “Harmolodics,” the musical theory Ornette applies.  Ornette tends to describe this as playing in “unison”, but the problem is that he uses that word in a way that is sui generis and therefore non-explanatory.  One of the more useful comments they have made (both Ornette and sideman Don Cherry are on record making such comments) is that the players think through all the chord changes in a song and then play something beyond the changes.  This comment doesn’t entirely make sense either.  Ornette’s bands didn’t exactly play atonally.  So this seems to circle back, perhaps, to George Russell’s comments about “pantonality” and Gunther Schuller’s comments about “motives”.  The underlying question is what links each sound together, harmonically (when played simultaneously) and melodically (when played over time).  Playing “beyond the changes” might mean that the subject of each song is never stated directly, but instead a copious amount of indirect statements (untethered to chord changes) imply what is missing and perhaps cannot be directly expressed by chord changes.  But really the reason why Ornette attempts any of this in the first place seems to lie beyond pure musicality and rest somewhere in the realm of sociopolitical ideology; Ornette’s worldview put him squarely on the political left, close to anarcho-syndicalism (don’t know what that is?  Read Ursula K. Le Guin‘s classic sci-fi novel The Dispossessed).

This Is Our Music is one of the essential Ornette Coleman albums.  It opens with the stupendous “Blues Connotation,” one of the songs that draws from Ornette’s background playing in R&B bands.  He does a few low, rumbling growl/squawks close to the R&B sax tradition.  The song is a great example of one of Ornette’s most endearing qualities.  This is a song with a melody that has an innocent, childlike simplicity, and yet, this is precisely not some sort of retreat to a fantasy of a safe and secure childhood.  No, this is about mature adult things, the sort of music that is beyond the capacity of infant children.  Yet it is an argument that mature adult topics should include a space for innocence and simplicity and goodness (compare here the physicist character Shevek in Le Guin’s novel mentioned earlier).

“Beauty Is a Rare Thing” is a slower tune that is an early example of Ornette’s interest in orchestral composition.  Haden plays his bass arco (bowed) insistently and deliberately to provide subtle and slowly evolving support, and Blackwell plays lightly on his toms (not unlike how a symphony would play tympani) and switches to cymbal rides and washes for a stretch.  Cherry plays brief squeaks behind Coleman, quite atonally.  The song is nothing if not a piece that builds and develops a sense of momentum in spite of the angular and abrupt soloing that would normally seem to lead in the opposite direction.

Kaleidoscope” is a twisting, complex composition.  It is a fast number drawing from bebop.  It quickens the tempo to something allegro (fast) after the largo (slow) “Beauty Is a Rare Thing.”  It’s also a chance to hear the players stretch out with showier solos.  Blackwell is all over his kit.  The horn players have been described as playing violently (relatively speaking).

“Embraceable You” is a rare standard (rare for Coleman albums that is).  It gets an appropriately sarcastic reading, complete with the horn players offering swaying, almost staggering lines, at times like a band playing gag lines to get a rise from the audience.

The rest of the album continues at a high level, mostly reaffirming what had already been mapped out earlier on the album.  But the compositions are strong, especially the quirky charm of the lyrical “Humpty Dumpty.”

This Is Our Music stands as one of the finest Ornette Coleman albums from top to bottom.  Even the cool indifferent photo of the group on the album cover, carrying the humbly provocative title “This Is Our Music,” has become iconic (and frequently tributed on other album covers).

Macklemore & Ryan Lewis – This Unruly Mess I’ve Made

This Unruly Mess I've Made

Macklemore & Ryan LewisThis Unruly Mess I’ve Made (2016)


Macklemore proves he is no fluke with his and Ryan Lewis’ follow-up to their surprise independent hit The Heist.  In many ways, This Unruly Mess I’ve Made is an even better album.  There is some filler (“Dance Off”), like the last album, but there are more good songs here.  In fact, this album is pretty solid from top to bottom.

What makes Macklemore stand out more than anything is that in an era of “third way” politics, where those supposedly on the left have capitulated to the political right, leaving a vacuum of genuinely left perspectives (in other words, the third way faces off with the first way, glossing over the absence of engagement with the second way), he goes in another direction.  He is rather blunt and explicit, but in that he is just a countervailing force to the rise of unconcealed bigotry.

“Growing Up” is an ode to Macklemore’s daughter, reminiscent of The Coup‘s “Change Your Draws.”  “Kevin” takes on the corruption of the pharmaceutical industry and the complicity with the medical industry that over-prescribes medication.  “Let’s Eat” is about body-shaming and is a humorous exploration of the complex relationship with food people have in late capitalism (the Scott Joplin-like piano riff is pitch perfect).  “White Privilege II” ranges from snippets explaining how mothers let their kids listen to Macklemore because he’s “positive” to #blacklivesmatter activism.  All of these are issues marginalized — if not outright facilitated and exacerbated — by mainstream media.

The opener “Light Tunnels” is great.  It is a bunt commentary on Macklemore attending a major music award ceremony.  It is both blunt and critical because he spends much of the song probing the intersection of art and commerce, and making explicit the economics and exploitation built into the system.  As with his debut album, some listeners can’t stand this approach.  Their criticisms tend to be that he is impertinent.  But really, those critics tend to be the desperate lumpenproletariat who see no way forward and harbor delusions that hierarchies of power and oppression will somehow benefit them.  Macklemore is explicitly wondering about a system that is better (more egalitarian) and not based on exploitation — not that he outlines such a system (now that would be a boring song!) but he traces the contours of the present system to show how far removed it is from what he considers a better system.

In short, Macklemore continues trying to shift the locus of debate in hip-hop music.  He continues to question the way the genre and the music industry as a whole seems built on bias and discrimination (against women, the overweight, etc.), and dwells on empires of superficial attention-grabbing.  Liberals absolutely hate this, because they advocate a form of universal domination by capital and Macklemore is questioning the tactics of capital in ways that could be significant.  But, fuck ’em, seriously.  Macklemore & Ryan Lewis are not standing wholly apart from the music industry and it’s demands.  They get their hands dirty in it.  But they also advocate for an independent point of view that is not about just accumulating money and fame in a crass materialistic way.  If it also needs mentioning, there should now be no doubt about Macklemore’s rapping abilities.  He’s spot on here, with impeccable rhythm for his style of essay rapping.  Ryan Lewis also deserves special attention.  He may not be pushing any boundaries, but his melodic backing tracks, which lean heavily on piano and backing vocal harmonies with a sensibility heavily informed by the old boom-bap style, complement and enhance the raps deftly.  This album may have been a commercial flop, compared to the duo’s last album, but it is definitely an artistic triumph.

Bert Jansch – Jack Orion

Jack Orion

Bert JanschJack Orion Transatlantic TRA 143 (1966)


“The Waggoner’s Lad,” with overlaid banjo and guitar starts Jack Orion on a high note, and the album pretty much never lets up.  The album as a whole returns to the emphasis on displays of instrumental virtuosity of Bert Jansch.  There was scarcely a better European guitarist in the 1960s than Jansch.  He and Davy Graham were, in many ways, the European counterparts to American Primitive guitarists like John Fahey, just a wee bit more extroverted.  Probably my favorite Jansch album.

The Cecil Taylor Quartet – Looking Ahead!

Looking Ahead!

The Cecil Taylor QuartetLooking Ahead! Contemporary M 3562 (1959)


Early Cecil Taylor albums occupy an unusual space.  Ignored upon release, fans who came in later after Taylor ramped up the density about four times over frequently find the early sessions beneath them.  That sort of view tends to equate density with quality, or less structure with higher quality.  While Taylor certain has great stuff that is dense and free, it is worth giving due to his excellent work on the early discs too.  Here he plays like Thelonious Monk on steroids, with angular lines that toy with dissonance and have a highly percussive quality.  His melodic and blues sensibilities get a more direct and open airing.  A common critique of these early albums is that the sidemen are not with Taylor, or not willing to go as “far out” as him.  Hogwash.  This band is with Taylor all the way, who frankly isn’t playing “free jazz” here.  But there is nothing wrong with that!  Play this in a blindfold test and someone might think it is the great lost Thelonious Monk album.  What is not to like about that?  Frankly, it took Taylor a long while to fully develop and realize his unique style, and his best “free” albums were not to arrive for a few years — even then Taylor occasionally hid a lack of ideas behind a massive wall of dense chaos.  But enjoy this one too for what it is: adventurous hard bop that goes to the limits of what still has reference points in that tradition.  And Earl Griffith on vibes adds a really nice tone/timbre that complements Taylor’s playing well.  Taylor knew the jazz tradition, and this album is some of the best evidence.

Cecil Taylor Trio and Quintet – Love For Sale

Love for Sale

Cecil Taylor Trio and QuintetLove For Sale United Artists UAL 4046 (1959)


So-so early Cecil Taylor album.  Compared to Jazz Advance and Looking Ahead! Taylor’s own playing is hit-or-miss.  The rest of the band mostly plays conventional hard bop without bringing anything particularly interesting to the table.  It has less awkward bits than Stereo Drive/Hard Driving Jazz, but also with fewer of the intriguing and daring bits.  Decent enough, but pass on this in favor of the better early Taylor albums.

Hank Mobley – Soul Station

Soul Station

Hank MobleySoul Station Blue Note BLP 4031 (1960)


If you like your jazz by the book, then Hank Mobley is your man.  I came to Soul Station while reading various books about Ornette Coleman.  People quoted in those books emphasized how Ornette pioneered ways to put more individualistic personality into jazz songs.  Mobley is, in many ways, precisely the opposite.  This album is about as devoid of personality as they come.  This is more gregarious in a way.  Fair, but utterly forgettable.

Ornette + Joachim Kühn – Colors: Live From Leipzig

Colors: Live From Leipzig

Ornette + Joachim KühnColors: Live From Leipzig Verve 314 537 789-2 (1997)


If there is a problem with Ornette Coleman’s later years, it is that the central question of “freedom” addressed by his music lost its immediacy.  This is to say that the problem of a lack of freedom had an immanent character in the late 1950s and early 60s when he first rose to prominence, when racial segregation and so forth were the norm.  But after the 1960s came to a close, and as Ornette became (perhaps grudgingly) accepted as an elder statesman of jazz.  At this point wasn’t he “free” and the game over?  This is to say the pursuit of freedom in “free jazz” doesn’t really mean much if the listening audience doesn’t recognize that pursuit juxtaposed with certain conditions of non-freedom.  So the question becomes, yes he is free, why does that matter?

There was plenty of space for Ornette to pursue amusements from the 1980s onward.  There was much more of a tendency for his later music to be meditations on very elemental but also very innocent pleasures.  Songs like “Latin Genetics” (from In All Languages) come to mind here.  But, that is also misleading.  Because as time went on Ornette managed to use that approach to probe the banality of modernity.  With mixed results, this lead to Virgin Beauty and Tone Dialing, though the approach started earlier (like “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman,” the theme song from a daytime TV show, on Soapsuds, Soapsuds). He was also doing comparisons between his musical ideas and established ones.  So Tone Dialing included “Bach Prelude.”  This was a more academic approach, perhaps, a kind of open dialog.  But it also was a kind of scientific attitude of sorts that looked at the way his (arbitrary) methods emerge from the conditions around him and how other circumstances faced by others produce different, or even slightly similar methods.

Joachim Kühn is a pianist raised in the former East Germany (GDR).  He had classical music training but turned to jazz when beginning his professional career.  It is Kühn’s classical training and seeming affinity for the Second Viennese School‘s chromatic expressionism that makes him a rather perfect pairing with Ornette.  The two players are able to meander endlessly, usually independently, but also with Kühn reacting to Coleman.  There is plenty of space in these performances for reflection.

Coleman notoriously avoided working with pianists most of his career, to avoid locating a tonal center on the fixed keys of a piano.  But late in that career, he kind of had nothing to prove, and in fact could prove that he was not bound to tonality best by working with a pianist anyway!  Ornette still plays in his trademark way, with practically no vibrato and with lines that tend to sustain the high notes.  There is little of the R&B influence of Ornette’s early recordings.  No matter.  These performances are wonderful.

The Beach Boys – L.A. (Light Album)

L.A. (Light Album)

The Beach BoysL.A. (Light Album) Caribou JZ 35752 (1979)


A small improvement over M.I.U. Album.  The best stuff here, like “Good Timin’,” is actually not bad at all, but there is a very real danger that the Boys are going to soft rock you to sleep listening to this one.  Plus, there are some serious duds here that can only induce cringes, like “Shortenin’ Bread” and the stab at disco “Here Comes the Night.”

The Beach Boys – Surf’s Up

Surf's Up

The Beach BoysSurf’s Up Brother RS 6453 (1971)


Surf’s Up is an odd little album but one containing some amazing Brian Wilson songs. A dark melancholy pervades the disc. “Surf’s Up,” with lyrics by Van Dyke Parks, is a holdover from the Smile period. It is a thrown together mishmash, like the whole album, but it has the spark of incorruptible genius hovering about its ordinary and vital emotions. “Surf’s Up” is a lost but confident stroll through a dream for good in the world. Parks’ surrealist lyrics (like “Laughs come hard/ in Auld Lang Syne” and “Surf’s Up/ umm-mmm umm-mmm umm-mmm/ aboard a tidal wave/ come about hard and join/ the young and often spring you gave”) help make Brian’s “Surf’s Up” about the best song The Beach Boys ever did. “’Til I Die” is another classic with a slightly more uncertain feeling. Actually, just the Brian Wilson songs that close the album make Surf’s Up essential for fans. Despite one dud rocker song and some questionable keyboard effects, the mellow satisfied quality pervading the album serves as a nice lead-in to the album’s powerful finish. It takes some dedication to appreciate what this album is, but with sometimes-strong contributions from various band members (e.g., “Long Promised Road”) it is worth the effort to find Surf’s Up and go beyond the group’s Sixties material.