Showing posts with label John McLaughlin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John McLaughlin. Show all posts

Friday, 10 September 2021

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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Friday, 30 July 2021

Miles Davis - Live-Evil (1971)

First in a three-Friday look at some of the many double-live albums released by Miles Davis in the 1970s (already posted: Agharta, see list below).  This one does actually include short tracks of studio material, three of them by Brazilian composer Hermeto Pascoal and recorded in June 1970; Pascoal also contributes vocals, percussion and electric piano to those pieces.  All the rest are live recordings from The Cellar Door in Washington DC, 19 December 1970.  Joining Miles on stage were Gary Bartz, John McLaughlin (a quick end-of-residency addition), a rare electrified Keith Jarrett before he swore off amplified keyboards, and a cracking rhythm section of Michael Henderson, Jack DeJohnette and Aitro Moreira.

The album title, and a couple of the track titles, come from the mirror-text effect on the vinyl gatefold: MILES DAVIS LIVE = SELIM SIVAD EVIL.  Sivad is the first lengthy live jam - might that be Jarrett's (in)famous vocalising halfway through? Could be Airto.  What I Say turns up the tempo for an even funkier exploration - Jarrett sounds like he's about to play LA Woman in the intro there.  The brief studio tracks by Pascoal are mellow, drifting drones, and completing Record 1/CD1 is a studio take of Gemini/Double Image by Davis/Zawinul, which actually dates back to February 1970.  That last one adds Khalil Balakrishna on electric sitar, and all the studio material adds Chick & Herbie to the keyboard section.
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Over on Disc 2, Selim provides a quick overture in the form of a Pascoal piece sounding similar to the other two, then it's Live Evil all the way in the two remaining long tracks.  Funky Tonk does what it says on the tin, with plenty of Jarrett grooves, McLaughlin solos and storming percussion.  To close, Inamorata is a great straight-ahead funk jam, with the "Narration By Conrad Roberts" being a brief voice-over poem near the end by the titular actor, for reasons I've never quite seen explained.

Disc 1 link
Disc 2 link
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Wednesday, 9 June 2021

Miles Davis - A Tribute To Jack Johnson (1971)

Soundtrack to a 1970 documentary about heavyweight champion boxer Jack Johnson (1878-1946), and also just an incredible electric-period Miles Davis album; perhaps an even better John McLaughlin album, given the guitarist's starring role.  First released as simply "Jack Johnson", with the LP cover below, all subsequent releases switched to the monochrome image of Miles (which apparently should've been the proper front cover in the first place), and added "A Tribute To" to the title.

Most of the music on the album's two side-long tracks was recorded on 7th April 1970, with inserts from earlier sessions.  Wanting to put together "the greatest rock 'n' roll band you've ever heard", Davis chose McLaughlin, Michael Henderson on bass guitar, Billy Cobham on drums and Steve Grossman on soprano sax to tear through the spontaneous rock groove of Right Off.  Eventually they were joined by Herbie Hancock, who happened to be passing through the studios and was plonked in front of a grungy organ to further electrify the groove at its midpoint.

Yesternow is an altogether weirder listen, with Teo Macero wielding the tape blade for a concoction that even has a brief excerpt of Shhh/Peaceful from In A Silent Way in the mix.  The first thirteen minutes are a much more slow-burning piece a la Ife on Big Fun, then post-Shhh the track jumps to another completely different session from February 1970.  The lineup here includes Sonny Sharrock on second guitar (not sure if it's him or McLaughlin doing that volley of laser-blast effects in the right channel), Chick Corea, Bennie Maupin, Dave Holland and Jack DeJohnette.  At the very end, a calm orchestral outro features a Jack Johnson voiceover performed by actor Brock Peters.  Altogether, A Tribute To Jack Johnson is one of Miles' most scorching electric records, and one that deserves to be just as well appraised as the better known classics like Bitches Brew/Silent Way.
Original LP cover
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Friday, 24 April 2020

Zakir Hussain - Making Music (1987)

This post starts with a thankyou to commenter Doug who jogged my memory about this album, back when I posted the Hariprasad Chaurasia album.  Not sure why I'd let this gorgeous recording from December 1986 sit on the shelf for so long - perhaps it didn't catch my mood when I first picked it up.  In any case, here's one of the vast collection of ECM experiments when a handful of musicians came together and struck gold.

Indian percussionist Zakir Hussain had already worked with Jan Garbarek a couple of years prior to this session (that's coming next week), and Hussain and Chaurasia had also collaborated on more traditional Indian music.  Completing the lineup was John McLaughlin, playing understated acoustic guitar throughout.  After the lengthy title track introduces everyone, some tracks highlight the musicians in pairs or trios and Chaurasia's sublime flute sounds take a starring role almost everywhere they appear.  Garbarek gets a wonderful feature on Anisa, followed by a Hussain solo, and McLaughlin's fleet fingers are highlighted on the all too brief You And Me.  One of the most underrated ECM treasures, not least by me up until now.

link
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Monday, 25 June 2018

Miles Davis - On The Corner (1972)

Someone mentioned late 60s-70s Miles in the comments recently, which made me dig this one out.  When On The Corner got its Columbia Legacy reissue in 2000, it became my introduction to Miles Davis' electric period - and holy crap, what a choice for diving into his post '68 journey to the outer limits of jazz fusion.  Already getting a hammering from establishment jazz critics for setting his sights light years farther than theirs, by 1972 the James Brown/Sly Stone-influenced Davis cared less than zero with On The Corner, its straightahead funk cacophony and its cartoon cover by illustrator Corky McCoy (Miles' idea being to appeal to a younger African-American audience).

If On The Corner was meant to be a record to groove to, that's not exactly easy at the outset, as the odd rhythm (the sixteenth-notes on the hi-hat are the key to following it) cuts in mid flow.  The title track - the first three minutes of the opening suite - is the kind of full-on fury that would lead to scorching live documents like Dark Magus and Agharta a few years later, with John McLaughlin's guitar and Collin Walcott's sitar wah-wahing like fighting lions.  Even as the larger 20-minute track opens up to give a bit more space, the subsequent sections deftly spliced by Teo Macero (wonder if he was ever aware of Tago Mago?), the groove doesn't calm down until the very end.

The head-shaking of the jazz critics continued as the rest of the album - that's 34 minutes - proceeded to hinge around one single bassline.  I must admit on early listens this did make me tune out, particularly on the 23 minute Helen Butte/Mr Freedom X - big mistake.  To follow these tracks closely is to hear infinite variations from the assembled players (Miles himself sticks mostly to electric organ, in his Fela-like lead shaman role), and an abundance of clever editing and other studio trickery, influenced by both Stockhausen and Paul Buckmaster  Essential, life-affirming deep groove music that the rest of the world is still catching up to.

link