Carla Bley - Escalator Over The Hill (1971)

A jazz-rock/Weill-esque opera/Indian-influenced avant-garde behemoth, complete on three LPs and later two CDs, four years in the making, from Carla Bley (composer), Paul Haines (librettist), and a cast of dozens of voices and musicians.  So much has been written about EOTH over the years that it's difficult to think what to add.  Perhaps the hundred-odd minutes of inspired insanity contained in this major labour of love are best just jumped straight in to, so here goes.

The thirteen-minute overture sits nicely alongside Bley's other work of the era in its dramatic, portentous sweep.  Then a swirl of "phantom" voices, tape effects and organ introduce the first characters, with Warhol star Viva acting as narrator throughout.  As an 'opera' (or rather, "chronotransduction"), Haines' text is so void of narrative logic it might as well be Einstein On The Beach - all that can be gleaned from the libretto is that it loosely concerns the inhabitants of a dilapidated hotel.  These include a couple named Ginger and David, who are voiced at certain points by a pre-solo fame Linda Ronstadt, and the singer from Manfred Mann who I grew up knowing as Uncle Jack.  Other voices include the musicians, such as Don Preston and Jack Bruce, as well as Bley/Mantler's daughter Karen Mantler making her debut on record, then about five years old.

The musical pieces then vary in length from under a minute to several, taking in more mind-blowing big band arrangements, small-group explosions with stinging lead guitar (check out John McLaughlin on Businessmen), gloomy piano with free-jazz skronk attacks, and more.  Eventually, the music reaches its absolute summit in the stretch corresponding to the third LP in the original box set.  A.I.R. (All India Radio) would soon be covered by Jan Garbarek among others; here it is in its original version.  The epic Rawalpindi Blues takes in more McLaughlin brilliance amid a coming together of the "Traveling Band" and the "Hotel Band", and if that wasn't enough, it gets a just-as-good nine minute coda.  One more short piece leads in to the stunning finale, which after eight and a half minutes (on record) ran into a lock-groove - on CD, this loop of humming drone plays out for nearly 19 minutes, then has a final snippet of calliope music as a 'hidden track'.  In a way, this is the ideal ending to a truly unique musical experience.

Disc 1 link

Disc 2 link

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Carla Bley at SGTG:

A Genuine Tong Funeral

The Jazz Composer's Orchestra

Fleur Carnivore

Appearing Nightly

Trios

The Jazz Composer's Orchestra - s/t (1968)

A fearsome, brutal armoured tank of an album (a double album, even) from the pen of Michael Mantler, and performed by a cast of dozens of musicians topped by the cream of late 60s free jazz as listed on the cover.  This 73-minute beast contains six tracks of tightly-controlled chaos, climaxing in a 33-minute 'concerto' fronted by legendary percussive pianist Cecil Taylor.  So if last Friday's jazz entry was a melodic, accessible session, this one, well, not so much.

That doesn't mean it shouldn't be approached with the same enthusiasm, as the rewards are rich.  Jazz Composer's Orchestra kicks off with 14 minutes of Communications 8, in which ominous drones and no less than five double-bass players form the backdrop for solos by Don Cherry and Gato Barbieri.  Communications 9 then plays in with dissonant strings to set the stage for Larry Coryell's guitar blowout - whether he'd been listening to the then-new Velvet Underground album, particularly Lou Reed's performance on I Heard Her Call My Name, is an open question; Coryell certainly gives any avant-rock pioneer a run for their money here.

On the next lengthy stretch, things calm down a bit, particularly in Steve Swallow's lengthy bass intro.  Communications 10 reminds me of Mingus a bit in its writing; the soloist this time is trombonist Roswell Rudd.  It's almost time for the main event, but first a brief prelude, or Preview.  And who better to give the final-act overture than Pharoah Sanders at his most unhinged?  He's certainly a memorable palate-cleanser, as Carla Bley vacates the piano stool to let Cecil Taylor play out the two-part finale.  Mantler fires up the orchestra to full blast, and Taylor lets rip in his unique style - kinda want to write more, but this one just has to heard to be believed.  A massive (in every sense of the word) double-album that will simply blow your head off every time you give it the chance.

link
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Previously posted at SGTG:
Michael Mantler & Don Preston - Alien
Carla Bley - Fleur Carnivore
Carla Bley - Appearing Nightly