John Coltrane
A Love Supreme: Live In Seattle
(Impulse!)
When the first Beatles on the BBC set was officially released, it was a revelation to hear "new" versions of their songs after considering their original studio releases as the only versions out there. Granted there are live recordings of the Beatles playing the songs. Thanks to YouTube (which didn't exist with the first BEEB set appeared), it's now easy to find concert performances by the band. But these recordings can't touch the sonic quality, precision or excitement of the studio sessions the band produced in those early days,. Not merely because of all the screaming that overpowered the band either. To put it another way, live segments give you a show, while Live at the BBC gives you a band performance. And once you hit Revolver, well there is only one version of each song.
A similar feeling came to mind upon hear John Coltrane's A Love Supreme; Live In Seattle. The four-part suite is considered the high-water mark in his extensive catalogue. So much has been written on the work, especially over this past week, that there's no need to restate its backstory here. Anyone unfamiliar with the whats and whys of A Love Supreme is encouraged to enter it into Google or, better yet, find a copy of Ashley Kahn's book A Love Supreme: The Story of John Coltrane's Signature Album, which offers a great deal of insight into the recording and keeps the reader excited throughout. Suffice to say, this piece of music - in which Coltrane devoted his faith to God (though not a specific one) - has taken on a sacred quality in and of itself.
Once he recorded the album in December 1964, Coltrane rarely played the suite live. One performance, at the French jazz festival at Antibes in July 1965, was finally released in 2002, presenting an extended take on the piece to an audience that responded in some parts with boos. He also reportedly played it at a fundraiser for a Brooklyn church, which was not recorded. Only a select few people knew that when Coltrane set up at Seattle's Penthouse in the fall of 1965 that A Love Supreme was performed in its entirety on his final night, and that his friend Joe Brazil recorded the performance and held onto the tape until his death in 2008.
The Antibes performance definitely added a new perspective to A Love Supreme, but in some ways, a jazz festival seems like the obvious place that Coltrane would revisit such a landmark piece. Hearing it in the intimate confines of a nightclub, the forum where Coltrane did most of his evolving as a musician brings the music down to the rootsy level As Kahn says in one of the album's essays, "This was not just message music, it was community music." (Italics are his.)
That feeling comes early in "Acknowledgement," the first movement of the suite. Anyone used to the studio version's opening gong crash, followed by the tenor saxophonist's declarative four-note fanfare might be surprised by the casual launch at the Penthouse. More surprising is that the band doesn't immediately go into the tune. Quartet bassist Jimmy Garrison is joined by second bassist Donald Rafael Garrett, who bows while Garrison plucks. They intertwine, not getting in each other's way, adding an earthy groove that eventually morphs into the three-note vamp. Coltrane doesn't re-enter for several minutes, letting a relaxed mood take place. When does join in, the band raises the dynamics, showing that its time to get down to business. Nearly three times as long as the studio version, this "Acknowledgement" reveals a little more grit, and not just because Pharoah Sanders is along for the ride.
The two-microphone set up gives the recording a stereo separation that was naturally created by the stage but it also pushes Coltrane down in the mix. He can be heard, but he's definitely getting edged out by drummer Elvin Jones and pianist McCoy Tyner. Even Pharoah Sanders, who had just become a member of the Coltrane band following the sessions for Ascension a few months earlier, can't wail and shriek over Jones thunderous drum kit. That night the group was also joined by alto saxophonist Carlos Ward. He solos during "Resolution," playing with a hard tone that somewhat recalls Eric Dolphy (making him a good addition to the group) but playing in a completely different melodic area. The final section of his solo seems to quote or draw on a disparate melodic form that almost pulls the music in a more straightahead melodic direction.
Coltrane would engage in a deeply cathartic chant of "Om" during his stay at the Penthouse during "Evolution" which appears on the posthumous Live in Seattle album. .(Another posthumous album, Coltrane's Om, was recorded that same weekend as this Penthouse engagement and included Joe Brazil on flute.) But A Love Supreme didn't involve any verbal incantations, such as the chant of the suite's title during "Acknowledgement." Surprisingly, he doesn't even solo in part three, the raucous "Pursuance," after stating the theme (which had shown up in his "Acknowledgement" solo, incidentally). Instead, he lets Sanders and Tyner take over. After the younger tenor saxophonist unleashes a stream of wails, the pianist creates his own tidal wave of music that must have been mind-blowing to everyone in the room. Maybe Coltrane decided he couldn't follow Tyner and decided to step aside.
Jimmy Garrison's bass solos were probably one of the few times during a set that the audience was able to hear him clearly, due to the velocity going around him. His solo after "Pursuance" provided a respite from the frenzy and this version has more edge and electricity than his studio performance. Garrison's signature strumming technique appears but he also plays with more focus that retains the feel from what occurred prior to it.
Likewise, "Psalm," the piece built around the poem that in the gatefold of the original album, moves with more passion and drive, without giving into the temptation to add some wails to the scene. (Sanders and Ward don't participate here either.)
The moment that takes A Love Supreme off of the altar and into the hands of the people (so to speak) comes in the final moments of the performance. After Coltrane finishes his final statement and the audience applauds, the bassists keep on going. One of them asks, "Is that the end," to which Coltrane replies, "It better be! It better be, baby! Yeah!"
The fact that the one of the most revered pieces of jazz music can end ambiguously, with the mighty John Coltrane casually calling one of his bandmates "baby," proves that this music could be revered and admired from a distance, but it was not so holy that it couldn't be lived in and revisited and reshaped.
No comments:
Post a Comment