Friday, September 22, 2006

ODE TO COLTRANE (Pt.2): Pharoah Sanders & Christian Vander













Pharoah Sanders
Greeting to Saud (Brother McCoy Tyner)
Elevation
Impulse, 1973














Magma
Coltrane Sundia
Kohntarkosz
A&M, 1974

Well, last night's McCoy Tyner and Pharoah Sanders show was a disappointment. Perhaps it was inevitable, with all of the hopes I had placed in it. I had envisioned a My Favorite Things/Resolution/Creator Has A Master Plan medley. It didn't happen that way. Instead, we got a few trifles, a half-hearted "Afro Blue" and McCoy checking his watch every few bars. One hour set. Not a second more. And not a great hour, at that.

That being said, I wanted to give a closing (if oblique) ode to John Coltrane on what woulda have been his 80th birthday with two tracks. These two odes close the book with quiet waves into the sunset rather than with trumpet fanfare. But both go pretty deep. The first is a Pharoah Sanders track, off of his Elevation album, called "Greeting to Saud (Brother McCoy Tyner)." Played on piano by Joe Bonner, it features the harmonically heavenly, harp-like chording that chracterized much of Tyner's sound (much more of which I would have loved to have heard last night), here augmented with all sorts of blissful chimes and shakers. Wordlessly beautiful.

The second track is deliberately similar. It was recorded by the man who may be my favorite musician, drummer/pianist/vocalist/composer Christian Vander and his band, Magma. I would be perfectly happy to highlight Magma pieces every day, but this track, "Coltrane Sundia," is an unusual one in the Magma canon. Placed at the end of one of their darker, more ominous albums, Kohntarkosz, it's a warm, spiritual beacon, an explicit expression of Vander's frequently mentioned, but usually only implied, passion for Coltrane's music. Check out the repeated motif of the high guitar note followed by the descending piano chords. It reflects a kind of glance to the infinite and a humble glance back to Earth. Sublime and effective.

Considering the piano-based nature of this piece and the acknowledged resemblance Vander's piano solo in hismagnificent "Eliphas Levi" has to Tyner's solo in "My Favorite Things," you have to wonder if his love for John Coltrane is as much a love for McCoy Tyner. Hmmm...And bringing it all around to complete the circle, Vander's jazz/soul/gospel band, Offering, would often play Pharoah Sanders' piece, "You've Got to Have Freedom." Perhaps it's truly all One.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

ODE TO COLTRANE (Pt.1): John McLaughlin & Santana 1973


John McLaughlin & Carlos Santana
Live in Chicago
1973 (Oh Boy)

Love Supreme

Let's Go Into the House of the Lord

My anticipation is intesifying for this week's McCoy Tyner with Pharoah Sanders shows at the Blue Note. Tyner takes me where no other pianist does and Pharoah's work often derives from a similarly, unspeakably beautiful harmonic ground. Well, it does after his work with John Coltrane, at least. And since this series of shows is meant as a commemoration of Coltrane's 80th, all bets are off. Ascension will happen. It's just more of a question whether it will be done through exapansion or obliteration. Here's to hoping for the former, but the pre-game excitement can't tell the difference.

Jazz came to me from John McLaughlin. I was never exposed to any jazz growing up and would have no idea who John Coltrane if not for the constant devotion paid to him by McLaughlin (as well as by Christian Vander, perhaps my favorite musician). While perhaps more associated with Miles Davis for his work on Bitches Brew, Jack Johnson and In a Silent Way, McLaughlin always had a bit more of Coltrane's drive for spiritual supernova and sonic meltdown intensity than with Miles' more restrained (if still very intense) urbanity. McLaughlin, for me, was the harnessing of maximal technique towards the solar sublimation of the soul, all done in a way that a kid who group up on Hendrix, Floyd and Purple could feel in every cell. So, I had every Mahavishnu tape I could find and even Shakti's Best Of, not to mention the all-time great Friday Night in San Francisco. But it was around my 17th brithday that I was flipping through one of my favorite NYC record stores, before the major bootleg busts of the 90s, that I came upon this 2-disc set: John McLaughlin & Carlos Santana Live in Chicago. 6 tracks, over 2 hours total! Line-up: I only recognized John & Carlos, as well as Mahavishnu drummer-spectaculaire, Billy Cobham. The percussionist, Armando Peraza, I assumed was part of Santana's band. Some guy named Larry Young on keyboard? Who's that? Doesn't matter. Recorded 1973. $44.99. It was my b-day and I was doing it, no matter what (just three weeks more than 15 years ago today). I didn't even have a CD player yet.

A few thousand CDs later, it's still one of my most revered discs. The guitar blast-offs get so high and seems to hold the peak forever, with the non-stop freight train percussion stampeding everything forward and with Young's spacy keys providing texture and counterpoint. I've posted here their 20-minute "cover" of Coltrane's "Love Supreme" in celebration of Coltrane on his 80th birthday, as well as their 25-minute take on Pharoah Sanders' "Let's Go Into the House of the Lord," to celebrate his celebration of Coltrane. Sorry there's no McCoy Tyner piece. These are staggering pieces of jazz-rock group improvisation and, also staggering, they might be only the third and fourth best tracks of the set!

Saturday, September 09, 2006

CARDIACS: Failed Valiance or (Nearly) Reconciling the Irreconcilable


The Cardiacs --R.E.S. (from Little Man...).
One of the best examples of the Cardiacs' aesthetic: high-paced, punk-vocalled verses lead by racing keyboard lines, giving way to blaring horn sections, a Floyd-like guitar solo, and a rousing, anthemic conclusion with everyone coming in on regal wings and a modest fade-out.

The Cardiacs --In A City Lining (from Little Man...).
Grand opening verses giving way to a maniacal, ska-via-calliope sound that would appear all over the Mr. Bungle debut.

The Cardiacs --Title Unknown To Me (from Obvious Identity).
One of my first Cardiacs tracks and probably the one that provided me with the revelation of how unusual these guys (and girl) were/are. Aggressive, punk vocals, tight, high-speed guitar, ominous (if dated) keys all at work in a coherent, ultra-dynamic composition (if rough recording). Still, if you want to hear the truest fusion of punk and prog on record, this might give you an idea.




It seems so obvious now that punk could be aesthetically reconciled with reggae, funk, and disco. When the Ramones and Pistols first launched, I wonder how obvious it was. But the Clash, Gang of Four, the Contortions, and others made it so and a million others also tinkered with variations on the formula. So, if punk-reggae and punk-disco could be done, why not punk-prog?

Sure, punk shared a core sense righteous indignation with reggae which likely formed a spiritual bond on which a formal bond could be built. But the same could hardly be said for punk and the overtly sexual nature of funk and the outlandish decadence of disco. Yet, the formal bonds were forged, all the same. Punk and prog also seem to stand at diametric opposites, with punk favoring simple song structures, untrained musicianship and vocals, and overtly political and confrontational lyrics while prog tends to favor more complex or extended compositions, highly trained musical skills and metaphorical lyrical approaches. If I had to distill punk and prog into single-word essences, they would probably be confrontation/provocation and transportation/composition, respectively. In those terms, it is easy to see why punk and prog haven't gotten together much. Then again, confrontation and Bacchanalia don't go together like peanut butter and chocolate, either. Even on a formal "sound" basis, punk and prog have had a tough time getting together. Some people might point to the solo work of Van Der Graaf Generator main-man and John Lydon favorite, Peter Hammill. But his anguished, singer/songwriter solo work tends to be too straight-forward for most prog fans, even those who worship him, to fully embrace as prog and is probably too bleak and harrowing for most punk fans to fully recognize as punk. Others might point to Hawkwind as the perfect blend of prog and punk. But again, most prog fans find most of their material, maybe apart from their mid-70s work, to be far too amateurish and sloppy in terms of technique and composition, however endearing, to be "true prog" while most punk fans would probably object to the band's frequent, 10+ minute song durations and over-the-top arena stage show. No doubt, cases can be made for a band here or there as the lock and key to the elusive prog-punk doorway, but it's pretty slim pickings and usually dubious, at that, for one side or the other.

There is one band that, new to my ears, has come closer to nailing certain, core elements of both punk sounds and prog sounds than any other band I've ever heard. That band is the Cardiacs.

More among British punk bands than US ones, one of the biggest identifying factors is the vocals: a snarling, snotty spit, more than a little obnoxious, not particularly trained and not particularly melodic, although not completely incapable of occasional silver flashes of melodic beauty. Cardiacs have those vocals. Add some palpably edged-up and jittery urgency and you get more of a sense into the band's punk-side feel. Too much caffeine, too little sleep, more than a little frustration. Most of the Cardiacs' verses, taken by themselves, could more easily pass muster through a hard core punker's filter than virtually any punk band of the past decade. But it's important to note that it's not the Pistols we're talking about here as much as Wire.

And that leads into the other element of the Cardiacs. In between and often a part of the verses are arpeggiated keyboard lightning strikes. Far too precise for punk, they might be called New Wave if they didn't reintegrate into the song with tricky meters and intricate melodic stops 'n starts, jump cuts and curly queues. But nifty keyboards, in and of themselves, wouldn't place them much further along the prog meter than some of the early stuff by the Stranglers or the more complex sides of the Damned. It's that after or around the main verses and choruses, the songs often blossom into symphonic grandeur, with huge keyboards approximating a post-punk take on the mellotron sound of bands such as Spring, Cressida, Rare Bird, Procol Harum and Genesis. Harmonies refract gracefully while still maintaining a twinge of their frantically wired origins. No doubt, the Cardiacs and early XTC kept tabs on each other. As Andy Partridge and Colin Moulding followed their McCartney/Lennon-sparked muse, the Cardiac boys followed their Gabriel muse. But the Wire bite never loosened its grip.

Truth be told, I only have the Cardiacs' first (and supposedly proggiest) album, A Little Man and a House... and Sings to God, Pt. I&II (perhaps their most heralded), in addition to two dozen, random, mostly live tracks from various sources, so I am nowhere near qualified to give you a full breakdown on their body of work and their course of progression and artistic development. Also, Little Man came out in 1988, even though the band had been playing and recording together since the late 70s, meaning that their punkest sounding stuff has to be found on various collections. Of the assorted tracks I've accumulated, the songs from the kinda rough-sounding Obvious Identity album (boot?) show the most balanced punk-prog attack, though I have no idea what year they're from. Some of the tracks I have show a rawer production style, like these, bringing the most out of the punk sound while some of the tracks sound like they were recorded on a 96-track board, making the proggy elements that much proggier. And while the Cardiacs may convincingly pass, at various points, as punk, prog, ska, post-punk, or whatever, it doesn't necessarily follow that fans of each of these styles will find the Cardiacs' music irresistable. In fact, the opposite seems to have been closer to the truth during the Cardiacs' career: everyone ran away screaming. The punks probably didn't like the intricate, often complex songs and the keyboards; the proggers probably couldn't take the snotty vocals; everyone else concluded that the band didn't know whether it was coming or going, although I bet Mike Patton's a fan. Which means that, despite the valiant attempt (and the Cardiacs' music is often of a very British, failed valiancy), maybe the Cardiacs' failure in both the prog and punk marketplaces only emphasizes how far afield the two genres truly are and that prog and punk do remain largely irreconcilable, for the time being. But maybe the Cardiacs have shown the way to start reconciling the differences.