The digitally encoded pudding contains the ultimate proof

The Ornette Coleman Double Quartet Free Jazz: A Collective Improvisation (Columbia, 1987 (Original release 1961))
The Roscoe Mitchell Sextet Sound (Delmark Records, 1996 (Original release 1966)
Reviewed by Micah Holmquist
October 30, 1999

I wanted to begin this column by saying something to the effect of "the 1960s was truly a creative period for jazz musicians." Better judgment grabbed me though. Yes the 1960s was a creative period in jazz but what decade in this century has not been? Sure smooth jazz came about in the 1970s and has yet to die its much-deserved death. But hey the 1960s saw Wes Montgomery play many a pitiful pop tune. No period has been devoid of subpar material. Similarly every decade has had at least some exciting stuff.

That long-winded intro aside, there does seem to be something different about what the, to use an already overused term, avant-garde of jazz was producing in the 1960s. Critics and fans generally considered bebop to be really "out there" when it first arrived in the late 1940s and 1950s. Yet that style of music has become more acceptable. The same is not true for the "free jazz" that came out of the 1960s. The primary reason for this is that the avant-garde used both forms and sounds that deviated from the norm.

There is no better example of this than Ornette Coleman’s Free Jazz. The full title is actually Free Jazz: A Collective Improvisation. The artist spot reads the Ornette Coleman double quartet. These two things say a lot about this release. It does not follow standard jazz conventions save for solos. Instead, as the title suggests, it features two quartets. One consists of Ornette Coleman on alto sax, Don Cherry on pocket trumpet, Scott La Fargo on bass, and Bill Higgins on the skins. Eric Dolphy, Freddie Hubbard, Charlie Haden, and Ed Blackwell are on bass clarinet, trumpet, bass, and drums respectively in the second unit. Heard on the left channel are Coleman, Cherry, La Fargo, and Higgins while Dolphy et al appear on the right.

The group gathered on December 21, 1960 and recorded what would become the title track. The cut opens with all of the horns coming right at the listener for a brief flourish. Then comes a Dolphy solo that Hubbard follows. Coleman goes next and then Cherry finishes the quartet of solos. These are not solos in the traditional sense, however. Each does play, at one point or another, with only the accompaniment of the two bass players and two drummers. The four players mix in those individual moments with a wide array of duos, trios, and quartets. Nat Hentoff explains in the excellent linear notes that very little of this was planned ahead of time but instead just reflects the musician’s natural instincts. Particularly good are the moments where Cherry and Dolphy trade bars.

"Free Jazz" runs a mammoth 37 minutes and 3 seconds. The four-person rhythm sections spend all but about 12 minutes in the background. Both Blackwell and Higgins get some fine licks in but it the two bassists that really shine in the secondary role. Haden and La Faro both manage to run numerous interesting lines while still interacting with the other as well as the larger group. The bass and drum work really becomes engaging when the four take center stage. Haden solos first amidst laid back percussive patterns from the two drummers. La Faro slowly joins in briefly before an abrupt and definite break. The drummers come in with cymbal crashes while horns give out dramatic squeaks. It is interesting to see how postmodernism was already becoming part of jazz via the use of horns in the tradition drum role. A duet between the two bassists is next before a similar break. Now it is time for Blackwell and Higgins who interact together for what amounts to one excellent solo. The track then ends much as it began.

The 1961 release of Free Jazz featured just this cut. The 1987 compact disc reissue also features another track labeled "First Take." The musicians had recorded this version earlier in the day. "First Take" only lasts 17 minutes but follows the same format as "Free Jazz." There is plenty of materials that deserves a listen here but it never really achieves the same heights as "Free Jazz."

Free Jazz is an excellent for listeners new to the avant-garde for two reasons. The first is that while the playing is a bit odd and involves quite a few honks and such, it never reaches the point of dissonance. The first is that while the playing is a bit odd and involves quite a few honks and such, it never reaches the point of dissonance. Coleman’s roots lie in Texas blues and R&B. These influences are apparent throughout Free Jazz and make for a work that most listeners will not dislike viscerally. Coleman and his comrades also show a great deal of discipline. The same patterns emerge from "Free Jazz" and "First Take." It is thus apparent after listening to both tracks that they did not improvise the entire project. These elements were hardly notable at the time. Little did anyone know that a host of jazz musicians were about to discard both comforting sounds and rigid structures.

Roscoe Mitchell was one of those musicians that would do away with do away with both when it suited their needs. Mitchell’s 1966 debut as a leader, Sound, would not go that far, however. Sound had plenty of both structure and abrasive sounds.

At moments the disc gets brutal. Mitchell, an alto saxophonist, interacts with trumpeter Lester Bowie, trombonist and cellist Lester Lashley, and tenor sax player Maurice McIntyre in a way that makes it seems like the musicians are clashing more than they are cooperating. This is especially true towards the end of the nearly 26 and half-minute long "Sound 1." The musicians start out slowly before building to a slow climax. This is nothing, however, compared to "The Little Suite." That tune is virtually all clammer between the players.

Despite the discord on Sound, a sense of playfulness abounds. Listeners will hear Mitchell playing the recorder and Bowie on the harmonica for a few amusing moments. Despite the dissonance "The Little Suite" sometimes sounds like circus music. Circus music from hell, that is.

Malachi Flavors and Alvin Fielder handle the rhythm section chores. They put less of a stamp on the music than do the winds. This is strange since they do not play standard backup. Instead Fielder’s drum chops and Flavors’ bass lines engage with the music as much the other players. Their work just does not stand out.

In addition to being great music, Sound is notable for its historical importance. This was the first release from the collective known as the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM). The AACM was a group of jazz musicians in Chicago that formed a collective in 1965 in order to keep control of their careers. The organization booked and promoted its own concerts and also ran education programs about jazz. Sound is also, quite arguably, the first chapter in the history of the Art Ensemble of Chicago. Bowie, Flavors, and Mitchell would all go on to become key components of that group.

The 1996 reissue from Delmark Records features 5 tracks recorded on August 10 and 26, 1966. Included here are two versions of a tune dedicated to Coleman called "Ornette," two takes of "Sound," and "The Little Suite." This is notable because the original only feature one take of "Ornette," "The Little Suite," and a spliced version of "Sound." Listeners can now hear the original studio recordings. The only problem with Delmark’s presentation is that the spliced version of "Sound" is not here. Sound was an influential record when it first came out and it is a shame that listeners do not have the opportunity to hear what it sounded like then. Nonetheless Sound remains a great disc for those looking into the historical avant-garde of jazz.

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