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John Coltrane at the Plugged Nickle, 1966


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Coltrane & Co.

at The Plugged Nickel

John Coltrane – tenor & soprano

Pharoah Sanders – tenor & flute

Alice Coltrane – piano

Jimmy Garrison – bass

Jack DeJohnette – drums

Rashid Ali – drums

March 2-6, 1966

Coltrane’s week here confirmed ASCENSION, made it clear that John intends to extend himself into a spasm of “mystic” experience. Which explains the music, and why he is digging into soul and pock to enlist the young lions, aligning their powers with his.

Wednesday night sounded as though giant hands were breaking open the earth, great sounds and chunks of things coming loose. John was blowing against a wall which tottered but wouldn’t fall, then backing off into the stomach-lurching rollercoaster of his more familiar style. Two drummers are pertinent to the music, functioning in a way comparable to a guitar team; while DeJohnette played “rhythm”, Rashid wove “melody”, a steady pattern of rhythmic filigree similar to the flying carpet Ed Blackwell spreads. But the most urgent voice of the night was Pharoah Sanders, toes plugged into some personal wall-socket, screaming squealing honking, exploding echoes of encouragement among the audience. Pharoah was a mad wind screeching through the root-cellars of Hell.

Friday night. How do you review a cataclysm? evaluate an earthquake? An apocalyptic juggernaut that rolled across an allusion to My Favorite Things into a soundtrack from an old Sabu movie – jungle-fire, animals rampaging in panic, trumpeting of bull elephants? You can only describe with impressions saved from the storm. DeJohnette walking away blanched and shaken from the demands of the music. Mrs. Coltrane sitting sedately by, occasionally edging in with comment. Garrison plugging away, helping hold things together. Pharoah a mongoose shaking a snake. Roscoe Mitchell, sitting in on alto for the night, breaking loose with lashes of short-range lightning, some of the most exciting playing to come out of the mass. Saxophonists reaching for tambourine, claves, beaters, etc. whenever resting the horn. Rashid coming through undaunted near the end with a fresh new drum-dance. A locomotive of horns, Pharoah-Trane-Roscoe in a row blowing at once, spinning wheels, throwing cinders. Roscoe becoming “possessed” with revival-frenzy. And the big punch of Coltrane, somehow keeping his head in the melee, breaking through time after time with groaning lyricism. Like a convulsion they had induced but no longer seemed able to control, it ground on and on, beyond expected limits of endurance, past two hours, past closing time, until the management intervened and closed it down.

The audience filed out into the morning, stunned and bludgeoned. The comfortable had been disturbed. The merely hip had been driven back to protests of cacophony, anarchy, disorder. And even the most open ears had become numbed by the continual barrage – one of the problems of the music. What do you carry away from an avalanche besides awe? Another problem – the piano solos and Garrison’s long masterful bass solos remain interludes, adjuncts unaccepted by the bulk of the music. But there were elements of order at work even if we were eventually deadened to them. A peripheral order that contained the inner disorder (pigs fighting in a gunny-sack, the sack enclosing their thrashings). Order from the momentum of the rhythm which pulled things along with it. Maybe a second bassist, say Donald Garrett, would have added that much more. And order from the herding sweep of John’s tenor.

Even at its best, the music never achieved the free flow of Ornette (the comings together and conversation of Free Jazz), or the arranged blossoms of sound-clusters of Sun Ra, or the paradox of complete control/freedom clarity of Albert Ayler (those open ringing bronze Bells, vibrating to their own self-shaping song and logic), but it does have excitement and immense raw power – an experience in itself. What they did prove was just how hard they could try. That they could beat themselves bloody pounding at the farthest reaches of experience and come back with only their effort as an answer. Perhaps that alone is their answer.

-- J.B. Figi

Chicago

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Great reading!

As I was reading that a little gap seemed to develop in my collection.

I didnt realise DeJohnette had played with Trane. Was he just sitting in or did he have a small run in the band?

Edited by Gary
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I arrived in Chicago a few weeks later. :(

I did hear the same band (sans Jack and Rock) on their next trip.

Chuck,

By chance did you see Coltrane when John Neumann (Jim's brother) sat in on Bass? I met John several months ago and he told me he sat in with Coltrane at the Plugged Nickel for a bit; also played with Chet Baker for a while. I'll see if I can get more details from John but pretty cool B-) I would say!

Mark

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Chuck,

By chance did you see Coltrane when John Neumann (Jim's brother) sat in on Bass? I met John several months ago and he told me he sat in with Coltrane at the Plugged Nickel for a bit; also played with Chet Baker for a while. I'll see if I can get more details from John but pretty cool B-) I would say!

Mark

I heard Coltrane during 3 different engagements at the PN. Never heard John Neumann.

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I remember John playing at sessions around the U. of Chicago in the 1961-3 period. An OK player but not, as I recall, at the level of Clyde Flowers, who also was around a good deal at that time and place, let alone some other guys who showed up from time to time -- Donald Garrett, the ungodly Russell Thorne, even once Wilbur Ware. Years later, in my club reviewing days (late '70s or early '80s I'd guess) I caught John in the rhythm section of the Pointer Sisters band. What's he been up all these years?

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I remember John playing at sessions around the U. of Chicago in the 1961-3 period. An OK player but not, as I recall, at the level of Clyde Flowers, who also was around a good deal at that time and place, let alone some other guys who showed up from time to time -- Donald Garrett, the ungodly Russell Thorne, even once Wilbur Ware. Years later, in my club reviewing days (late '70s or early '80s I'd guess) I caught John in the rhythm section of the Pointer Sisters band. What's he been up all these years?

John's a business owner out in San Francisco. I'm good friends with Jim; John stops in Chicago from time to time to visit. Very friendly guy, never comes across as a guy who thinks he's "all that!", just digs the music and had a chance to play with some of the "heavies" (not referring to the Pointer Sisters :P ) Even when I say "wow" to some of the guys he's played with, it seems like no big deal to him but I'm sure it was a buzz back in the day!

Mark

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  • 2 weeks later...

That Roscoe played with and was influenced by Ayler is well known, but that he played with this band, got up on that bandstand, is the definition of bravery.

The notion that this music somehow falls outside of the corporate idea of acceptable jazz and is therefore outside of the tradition of jazz is belied by Figi's piece: Ayler, Ornette, Trane were jazz itself, amongst other musicians and currents in the music.

Another aspect of this period that is bolstered by Nessa's accounts is that the audience for this band was HUGE, that folks were lining up around the block and that Coltrane's later years were a time of his greatest cult-like following, not one where the audience in total turned up their noses and stayed home. According to Sound Scan figures (second hand) this band's music still sells well. And you can see why: it is an experience to encounter. No golf clap from this audience.

For what it is worth, the Jazz Institute's main page included this past review as it ties in to the main headline, a comissioned work from Ravi Coltrane reflecting on his father's "A Love Supreme" to be performed on August 31st in Chicago.

Anyone planning on going to that concert?

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For what it is worth, the Jazz Institute's main page included this past review as it ties in to the main headline, a comissioned work from Ravi Coltrane reflecting on his father's "A Love Supreme" to be performed on August 31st in Chicago.

Anyone planning on going to that concert?

I read a review of this concert in the Chicago Tribune while I was out there. They gave a thumbs up to most of the set, but savaged Ravi's reflections on ALS, going so far as to say the Jazz Institute should get a refund on the comisison they gave to Ravi. The review is online, but requires registration to read.

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JAZZ FESTIVAL REVIEW

`Reflections' serves neither Coltrane

Ravi's composition falls far short of father's epic

By Howard Reich

Tribune arts critic

Published September 2, 2004

On purely musical terms, saxophonist Ravi Coltrane's performance Tuesday night at the Chicago Jazz Festival offered moments of real substance and lyric inspiration.

But the world premiere of his "Reflections on `A Love Supreme'"--a response to the most celebrated album of his father, jazz icon John Coltrane--proved a monumental disappointment.

So much, in fact, that the younger Coltrane would have done himself, and his audience, a greater service simply by avoiding any references to John Coltrane's epic, four-movement suite, "A Love Supreme."

Recorded 40 years ago this December, John Coltrane's signature album has come to hold a prized position in American musical culture, its themes of sin and salvation, spiritual crisis and redemption reaching audiences far outside the realm of jazz. Though steeped in blues vocabulary and innovative improvisational techniques, "A Love Supreme" has spoken to pop audiences, rock artists and anyone else open to its extraordinarily candid exploration of one man's journey toward the divine.

No doubt any musician attempting to address this work would face a formidable challenge, all the more when the protagonist happens to be John Coltrane's son.

So one had to admire Ravi Coltrane's gumption in accepting a commission from the Jazz Institute of Chicago, which shrewdly conceived the idea of marking the forthcoming 40th anniversary of "A Love Supreme" by inviting the 39-year-old saxophonist to attempt to scale an Everest of jazz. Even if Ravi Coltrane had produced a noble failure--trying vigorously to wrestle with the message of "A Love Supreme" but ultimately falling short--no one could have held it against him.

The original is simply too imposing to be matched by mere mortals. The value of the exercise would be in beholding the struggle.

But Ravi Coltrane barely took on the challenge at all, fronting his sextet at the Harris Theater. Offering a comparatively slight jazz tune that was dwarfed even by individual movements of "A Love Supreme," Ravi Coltrane gave neither the original composition nor the bold commission from the Jazz Institute serious attention. Instead, he simply closed an over-long concert with a grandly titled work that amounted to little more than a sizable encore.

The opening passages of "Reflections on `A Love Supreme,'" however, had seemed promising. Pianist Luis Perdomo's lush solo evocatively recalled Elvin Jones' percussion statements at the start of the original album, and Ravi Coltrane's subsequent statement--with its wide-open intervals and twisting melodic paths--suggested that an intellectually hefty discourse was about to commence.

Better still, the predominantly major scales and sustained rhythmic serenity of the opening pages implied that Ravi Coltrane was picking up where his father's album ended, a potentially ingenious idea. Rather than try to cover the same ground as "A Love Supreme," in other words, the new "Reflections" would head off into new directions.

Fair enough, but what followed were merely workmanlike solos, long stretches of rhythmic torpor and a nearly complete lack of thematic cohesion or purpose.

This was remarkable, considering the nature of the rest of the program, in which the virtuosity of Coltrane's sextet and the rigor of his compositions were beyond question.

The sheer elegiac beauty of his "For Zoey," a new work, and the plangent lyricism of his "Narcine" attested to the man's skill as jazz composer. With intelligently constructed, sleekly delivered solos from trumpeter Ralph Alessi and exquisitely layered rhythms from percussionist Luisito Quintero, drummer E. J. Strickland and bassist Drew Gress, this band elegantly conveyed multiple strands of sound.

Some of the ensemble's best work rang out in John Coltrane's intricate "26-2," its irregular meter crisply telegraphed by six players functioning almost as one.

Unfortunately, as far as the commission went, Ravi Coltrane may owe the Jazz Institute a refund.

Copyright © 2004, Chicago Tribune

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I remember John playing at sessions around the U. of Chicago in the 1961-3 period. An OK player but not, as I recall, at the level of Clyde Flowers, who also was around a good deal at that time and place, let alone some other guys who showed up from time to time -- Donald Garrett, the ungodly Russell Thorne, even once Wilbur Ware. Years later, in my club reviewing days (late '70s or early '80s I'd guess) I caught John in the rhythm section of the Pointer Sisters band. What's he been up all these years?

Wow, I sure was tickled to run across this item. I was trying out a new search engine (A9) and ran my own name. That is a very nice compliment to even put my name on the same page with those other guys. John Neuman was a good friend of mine and a fine bass player. Last time I saw him he was in Berkeley between Pointer Sister gigs. If anyone sees him, please give him a shout out for me. I’d love to hear from him - my email is newclarence@yahoo.com

And yes, Russel Thorne! What a player, and he just came out of nowhere. When he first started coming around to play a sessions and stuff, he couldn’t play for s**t. Then nobody saw him for awhile and next thing you know he’s got five strings on his bass and playing like some kind of monster Scott Lafaro clone. The last I ever heard about him was that he quit playing gigs and had bought a used bookstore where he set up his bass in the window and played there. He may still be there for all I know.

There were some other really great bass players around in those days. I remember Victor Sproules, Bob Mathews, Sam Agres, Nevin Wilson, Buddy Smith and, of course the wonderful and sorely missed Malachi "Mal" Favors, rest his soul. You always wonder what became of them all. And then there were the younger, up and comers, like Reggie Willis, Scotty Holt, Ted Harley and a wonderful young player whose name I can't recall who came out with Anthony Braxton, prbly around 1966 or 7. He was on a musical level with Anthony. But he died from a brain hemorhage walking down Michigan Avenue one day. That was a terrible loss, anyone remenber his name?

Hope I didn’t go on too long here. Cheers to all and thanks for stirring up happy old memories.

Clyde Flowers

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In a related matter to Figi, would someone please point me to where Bill Mathieu's review of John Coltrane's "Ascension" might be found (Downbeat 1966). Been digging around and haven't found it. Or, if perhaps you have it, would you mind posting?

It begins "This is possibly the most powerful human sound ever recorded."

Need to read the rest of that!

Edited by Lazaro Vega
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