Aug 9 2018
I go in many different directions: The new John Coltrane album
I got almost all the way through the first track and then shut it off. I hate my car, but it has a nice stereo. Many of the albums you’ve read about on this site were written while I was in that car, listening on that stereo. But that didn’t matter in this case. I pulled the car over, ejected the CD from the player, and tossed the new John Coltrane album to the side.
I had just purchased it minutes before. I drove to Lexington, the nearest city to my current hometown of Frankfort, KY. I didn’t want to purchase a download of Both Directions At Once. I also didn’t want to receive it in the mail. I wanted to relive the experience of buying a new (to me) John Coltrane recording. Like it used to be.
It used to be that I’d buy a Coltrane album at Jerry’s Record Exchange in Denver, Colorado. Other than an ending stint in Five Points territory, I set down Denver roots in the Capitol Hill neighborhood. Just off famed Colfax Avenue and, yes, near the State capitol building, the neighborhood was a mecca of music shops. Wax Trax pretty much owned half of the storefronts on 13th Street between Washington and Pearl. There was their flagship store, a used store, a jazz & related specialty store, a music swag store (like posters and stuff). Wax Trax dominated that wonderful block. There were several other music stores right around there in a five block radius… I’ve forgotten their names and they probably don’t even exist anymore, but damn, did I buy a lot of music from them.
One store where I did the most of my buying, and not far away, was Jerry’s Record Exchange. Jerry’s was a true hole in the wall. It had an impressive supply of music from any genre you can name. LPs, CDs, cassettes… shit, there may even have been a box of 8-tracks for all I remember.
I was developing a pretty dedicated jazz addiction by the time I landed in Denver, but there was still so much music I had yet to discover. The owner of Jerry’s, John Loquidis, was a local poet who’d spent some years doing the same out in NYC. He had anecdotes to share, and he had advice to give on any CD I held up to him to inquire whether I should buy it. I didn’t need any help with John Coltrane. I knew I what I liked, and I kept buying more and more CDs, and before I knew it, Coltrane had taken up an entire shelf on the CD rack and was making a dent in the next one down.
I purchased music at a ridiculous clip. Back in the 90s, it was dirt cheap living in Denver, and with a decent accounting gig, I had plenty of disposable income to burn on music. But despite my heady rate of accumulation, the process of introducing myself in each new jazz CD was the same. Sit down in a comfortable spot. Scan over the personnel and recording info for a bit of up-front context, then lovingly read through the liner notes and drown in the session photos as the music played to my ears for the first time. There was something special about immersing myself in this music, and the experience was just as important as the music itself… they complemented one another so nicely, and it made me feel like I was living life in the way the instruction manual suggested. There are certain albums that bring the most visceral sensation of memory from the first time I gave them a spin.
So, that’s what stopped me before the first track, and got me to shelf the album for later. I wanted to relive that experience.
I must’ve recognized that from the beginning. I mentioned how I wanted to purchase the album from an actual music store. And I didn’t have them pre-order the CD or hold it for me or even ask if they carried it. I went into Lexington for a day of fun, and buying music was on that list. The new Coltrane was one of several things I was looking for.
I do miss that whole experience. Even after I’d moved back to Chicago, I kept on going. Jazz Record Mart downtown, Laurie’s Planet of Sound on North Lincoln, Evil Clown Records over on Halstead, Disc Revival on North Clark, and Groovin’ High on Belmont all got plenty of my cash in trade for new music. But far and away my biggest supplier of new music was Reckless Records, split equally between their Lakeview and Wicker Park outlets. The simple act of walking into a music store, a few artists and albums in mind, but mostly just browsing the shelves and buying anything that looks interesting. I miss that.
I love my new hometown. It’s a tiny town, and that’s a good thing in so many ways. But I do miss having a music store to visit at will. My life has been richer for those experiences. The drive to CD Central in Lexington, situated on the edge of the University of Kentucky campus’s nightlife stomping grounds, filled that need quite nicely. In addition to the new Coltrane (which was sitting on a featured shelf!), I also scooped up a couple Tzadik Records releases from the trio of Frisell, Emanuel and Wollesen. I owned the downloads, but adore their trio albums so much, I really wanted to own the physical disc. Also, going to Kentucky music stores and buying Tzadik Records releases hits another nostalgic sweet spot… but that’s a subject for another post series entirely.
It was awesome just to be browsing the jazz section and see new releases for Mehldau and Kamasi and Still Dreaming as well as older releases on ECM and Blue Note and a cool Sun Ra reissue. Y’know, like a normal jazz section at a decent record store.
The second time I tried listening to the new Coltrane album, I stopped before the third track was over. It was a Friday night, and the electricity in the room and how it flowed through my head & heart clashed with the music. Something just felt off, so I nixed that whole thing right there. Sitting around the house and listening to music just wasn’t in the plans. I went out for dinner and drinks, and that turned out to be the right decision.
I took a sick day from work today. It’s a Tuesday. The day job has been wearing me out, and after a migraine Monday night stacked on top of some pretty severe physical and mental exhaustion, I decided it was best to nip that shit in the bud and just have a relaxation day. The cats snored most of the afternoon away, and eventually it began storming. I was suddenly overcome by the desire to hear that new Coltrane album right now. I’m listening to it as I type this. I have some thoughts about Both Directions at Once… the lost album that lit a spark under the jazz community.
It’s a special thing to find a lost Coltrane recording. Of course it is. But most of these previously unreleased albums tend to be pretty underwhelming. In some instances, it becomes pretty obvious why the album was shelved in the first place. They tend to be on the mediocre side of greatness, and it doesn’t take much imagination to hear the words of the musician echo from decades long ago to the tune of “Lose it. I can do better.”
But I understand the compulsion to release these previously unreleased albums newly discovered. The music of these artists lives on forever, but the immediacy of the knowledge that they’ll never record anything new ever again is pretty damn awful to face. The desire to hear more of this beautiful music, and the unmet need to see where that musician would’ve gone to next, to see the uncompleted creative trajectory hit its intended mark, is something that will never achieve closure. I get that, and I sympathize.
The new one from Coltrane stands up pretty well on its own merits. I’m enjoying it. Even the second disc of the deluxe ecition, which is just a bunch of alternate takes, but pretty cool as far as that goes. Previous deluxe editions of Coltrane recordings have provided some really nice alternate takes. The deluxe edition of A Love Supreme, and the contribution of Archie Shepp comes to mind. It’s nice that the alternate takes were included. I’m glad this album saw the light of day.
But will I listen to it again? Maybe? Sporadically, perhaps. But it won’t be as much about the music as it will be to relive a nice day of driving into Lexington and hitting the record shop. But for me, that’s enough.
I love Coltrane’s Blue Train, but sometimes I give it a listen just because I recall a memory of driving through Colorado’s San Luis Valley, surrounded by mountains, and the sound of it playing over the car stereo. A Love Supreme is one of my all-time favorite albums, but sometimes the motivation to give it a spin is to trigger a memory of it playing on the iPod as I walked along Chicago’s lakeshore on a crisp autumn day. Africa/Brass is my very favorite Coltrane recording, and one strong association that will never fade is that long, miserable Denver summer when the depression was so thick that all I could was listen to Africa/Brass all day long until the night had dug in and I felt safe going to a neighborhood bar and getting shitfaced drunk just so I could face waking up again for one more morning. That insane album is what helped keep me sane, and it’ll always be a reminder that music can save lives. And then there’s those 1961 Village Vanguard recordings. The melody of “India” resonating from Coltrane’s and Dolphy’s intonations, and how it felt like a spiritual mainline will always be a reminder that music breathes life into everything.
Recorded in 1963, Both Directions At Once features Coltrane’s “Classic Quartet” of pianist McCoy Tyner, bassist Jimmy Garrison and drummer Elvin Jones. As far as bird of a feather recordings, it’s most comparable to the eponymous 1962 release Coltrane, which was the first with this quartet. For me personally, Both Directions At Once is the lesser of those two recordings. There’s a moodiness and intensity to Coltrane that just makes everything resonate so much stronger.
A brief reverie on “Nature Boy” engenders a bit of interest. The track simply titled “Untitled Original 11386” has Coltrane inciting a melody to greater and greater heights in staggered leaps and descents, as if feeding a flame’s intensity by occasionally starving it of oxygen. There’s a crisp rendition of “Impressions” that won’t trigger any buyer’s remorse.
The release is broken into two discs. Disc one could be considered the true album, while disc two is alternate takes and similar ephemera. Three separate alternate takes of “Impressions,” however, is a bit much. Even though with each take Coltrane turns the piece in his hands to see how the light shines through it with different angles, it still boils down to the same melody on repeat, and the repetition saps the song of a bit of its magic. Some of you will prefer to break up the second disc into separate listening sessions, while others may get a charge out of hearing the alternate perspectives back to back and drawing comparisons and noting the contrasts. A lot of the music on this album, while plenty good, comes off as unfocused… not so much as in the meandering sense or lacking direction, but it sounds more like Coltrane is throwing punches rather than trying to land them.
There’s also something missing from the other quartet members. The presence of each musician on the great Classic Quartet recordings left its imprint on a recording. Tyner, Garrison and Jones aren’t pushed to the back on this recording. Jones’s rhythmic waves on “One Up, One Down,” Garrison’s bass arco on “Untitled Original 11383,” and Tyner’s rapier-like swings of melody on the second take of the same piece are all highlights. But those are moments. The absence of their presence is something that informs the totality of the recording, and it’s the difference between a Classic Quartet album or John Coltrane and his quartet. Both Directions At Once leans more towards the latter, and that is disappointing.
The CD production is solid. It’s obvious the care that was put into its development. There’s a standard and deluxe edition. There’s some studio photos from the session that accompany liner notes from Sonny Rollins and Ravi Coltrane. The sound doesn’t disappoint. I like how they kept the studio voices announcing the track titles. It adds a little touch of being there. The gatefold design with the cutout pattern is sharp, and, seriously, is there a jazz fan out there who doesn’t get a charge out of seeing the Impulse orange & black?
I hope time changes my opinion of the album. If not, then at least I’ll always possess the joyful memory of purchasing the album and the first time I really got to sit down and spend an afternoon giving it a listen. Because now I can add the city of Lexington, Kentucky to the memories of times past in other cities when I got to go to my local record store and buy a new John Coltrane album. And that will always be pretty special to me.
Released on Impulse Records.
Here’s a nifty video of Ravi Coltrane breaking it all down…
You can purchase the album at Amazon.
Over the course of four recordings, Olivier Bogé has developed a talent at unleashing enchanting melodies that is as potent as anyone on the scene. His blend of modern jazz and folk is seriously charismatic, and the shifts between states of introspection and intensity should appeal to anyone who enjoys that same quality from the Brian Blade Fellowship. When Ghosts Were Young was one of the final cuts for the Best of 2017 list, and it’s indicative of just how deep the talent pool ran on that year. This is a solid album, and one I’m pretty well addicted to.
I have been captivated by Avin since its opening notes first hit my hears many months ago. The reverie on a relationship by bassist Christian Meass Svendsen has all of the melancholy heartbreak and sublime joy of that subject, and susses it out in a way that incites introspection yet carries with the ease of a lullaby. Nakama Records, which is really the loose collective of like-minded musicians, isn’t really a jazz label per se… their music spans a number of influences and genre. As such, Avin is very much a work of folk and chamber, and even with my very broad definition of what qualifies as jazz for this site, I decided to exclude it from Best Of list consideration. But of greater importance is the observation that Avin may very well be the most gripping, beautiful album I’ve heard in 2017. Svendsen’s emotional weight carries through loud and clear, and forges a connection to the music through an empathy from anyone who’s ever experienced the peaks and valleys of love.
The modern distillation of cosmic jazz from keyboardist Greg Foat and guitarist Warren Hampshire is one where rich melodies melt away into an atmospheric bliss, and the cadence of the melt are the building blocks of the casual grooves that gently propel each song forward, providing a sense of structure to the otherwise formless parade of vivid imagery. Galaxies Like Grains of Sand is a natural extension of Foat’s excellent 2015 release 
Read up a little bit on Zach Rhea, and you’ll find his music interests span a pretty wide array of sounds and influences. The drummer’s listening habits clearly translate to his own music, because this eponymous debut of the New Music Collective mixes in some rock and pop and cinematic ambiance with its personal styling of a post-bop sound. Sometimes the music is catchy, sometimes it’s punchy, sometimes it coos softly and other times it burns wildly out of control. I find all of it quite charming, especially when the variations of expression are viewed in the context of the album as a whole, like the changing of seasons over the course of a year… all of those differences reveal themselves as facets of a singular event. It’s why I keep returning to this album time and again.
Ever since I first laid ears on this 4-track EP by the Morgan’ duo of clarinetist Hugo Proy and guitarist Vincent Guiot, I’ve been fascinated by its friendly chatter and moments of stunning beauty. They collaborate with one guest on each track, and each guest brings an unconventional instrument to the affair: sitar, didgeridoo, mandolin and synthesizers & effects. This album came out at the tail end of 2016, after the books were closed on the year, and at a time when the potential is high for an album to slip under the radar. I’m glad this one didn’t make it past mine, because I am truly enamored with it.
Every year, there’s an album (or three) whose exclusion from the Best Of list truly haunts me. For 2017, it would appear Saagara‘s 2 has earned that distinction. Waclaw Zimpel’s Indian Orchestra concocted an intoxicating blend of Indian classical, folk and electronica, and it’s the kind of thing that becomes increasingly addictive with frequency of use. Clarinets and khanjira and thavil and violin and the electronic production of mooryc are the ingredients for this dizzying display of textures and kaleidoscopic transformations in expression. I guess I excluded it because it really falls outside the auspices of the jazz sphere, but I should’ve just said to hell with it and included this album. It’s amazing.
And before signing off, one final mention should go to Jon De Lucia‘s 2017 release As the River Sings. You’ll be reading about that album tomorrow, but it’s music that has been filling up my house for many yesterdays all year long.
I listen to everything. At least, I try to. Every year, I toy with the idea of tracking just how many albums I listen to in a year, and how many cross my desk via unsolicited promos and new release listings on various retail and label sites. That first category? Maybe somewhere between 1,000 and 1,500. The second category… those albums that get just a few moments of my time to give me a reason to give more than that? Five times that amount. Maybe more. Tons.
It’s an odd sort of anguish to discover an excellent recording months after finalizing the year’s Best Of list. Anne Paceo‘s Yokai was my first experience with it. I was filing away my lists for 2012 (yes, I actually keep a handwritten list as I go through the new releases), when I noticed a follow-up mark next to Yokai and no final designation. It fell through the cracks. No big deal, I figured. I’ll give it a listen. I can always give it a write-up if I like the thing. Well, I did like the thing. A lot. So much, in fact, that I tried to travel back in time through sheer force of will so that I could add it to my Best of 2012 list. Once acknowledging my failure on that plan of action, the only avenue left to me was 
Paradigm Shift is the pattern of sharp images melting into alien shapes, and then reuniting again as something equally vivid, and strangely familiar. On this 2016 release, clarinetist Francesco Chiapperini and his InSight trio were an unending source of stunning waves of intensity and interludes of jaw-dropping beauty. The Aut Records label hit my radar in the latter half of 2016, and had I gotten around to Paradigm Shift a bit sooner, there’s no doubt it would’ve landed a spot on the Best of 2016 list.
It’s the way this music shifts between phases of immense orchestration and free improvisation that marks Libèrrim as a winning album. Drummer Arnau Obiols leads a quintet into the thick of a composition where every step is directed and every footprint’s shape predetermined, but these manipulations are not, in fact, enclosures, but instead behave as doorways to passages of wild spells of imagination. Aladid Records reached out to me in December of 2015, and it wasn’t until nearly a year after it was released that I finally got around to writing about Libèrrim. Had I gotten to it sooner, would it have found a home on the 
Les Amours Invisibles is not a process of construction, deconstruction and reconstruction… it’s how a flock of starlings come together as a murmuration then break off again into their individual flight patterns… yet still are locked in with one another. It’s where the togetherness of individual expressions are still part of the united whole. On his 2012 release, Laurent Rochelle guided his own melodic development to that of his ensemble’s in that same way, and it’s how he fluctuates between melodic nuance and the confluence of a grand unity that marks this recording’s success. It’s a gorgeous album, and I didn’t discover it until exploring through Rochelle’s back catalog after falling in love with
Sep 10 2018
You should drop by the Haruka Kikuchi family of sites
Kikuchi was raised near Japan, in the Chiba Prefecture. After an early start on piano & violin, Kikuchi eventually switched over to slide trombone after falling in love with the New Orleans sound of traditional jazz. And what began with performing at Little Mardi Gras in Matsue (Japan’s sister city to New Orleans) has led to the trombonist moving to New Orleans to continue her immersion into the life and the music.
Kikuchi’s Bandcamp page has a running series of EP recordings titled Japan: New Orleans Collection.
She’s got two websites. One site details her music, bio, shows, etc. It also has a photo summary of blog posts she’s written to document her journey. You can read about that journey on her blog. It’s written in Japanese, but you have Google Translate at your disposal, and, besides, all the wonderful photos tell a tale all by themselves. Her Instagram account appears to have additional photos, too.
Anyways, I just thought you might like to know about this. Have fun!
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By davesumner • Artist Overviews, Other Writing • 0