Saturday I posted the first of these two (wonderful) performances; here’s the second.
Mars Williams presents: An Ayler Xmas Vol. 4 (Night 2) (Mars Williams, tenor saxophone, toy instruments; Josh Berman, cornet; Jim Baker, piano, viola, ARP synthesizer; Krzysztof Pabian, bass; Brian Sandstrom, bass, guitar, trumpet; Steve Hunt, drums; Peter Maunu, violin), live (performance begins at 5:15), Chicago (Constellation), 12/19/20
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lagniappe
random sights
other day, Oak Park, Ill.
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reading table
An empty day without events.
And that is why
it grew immense
as space. And suddenly
happiness of being
entered me.
I heard
in my heartbeat
the birth of time
and each instant of life
one after the other
came rushing in
like priceless gifts.
—Anna Swir (1909-1984), “Priceless Gifts” (translated from Polish by Czesław Miłosz and Leonard Nathan)
Albert Ayler (tenor saxophone, 1936-1970) with Donald Tyler (trumpet), et al., “Our Prayer” (A. Ayler), Live in Greenwich Village (Village Vanguard), 1967
OK, let’s talk physics. One problem with the term “free jazz” is that it suggests a sound world in which there’s no center of gravity—a world where everything pushes outward, where centrifugal force rules. But the reality, with many of the greatest artists, is different. Centripetal, not centrifugal, force is king. The musicians push inward, not outward, toward a center none ever inhabits individually but, collectively, they are always moving toward.
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The contributions of Gary Peacock and Sunny Murray are hard to overstate. Sidemen? There are none.
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Like Ornette Coleman, Albert Ayler is at heart a blues musician—one who, like Ornette, expanded the blues vocabulary.
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radio
Today, from noon to 9 p.m. (EST), WKCR-FM (broadcasting from Columbia University) is all Albert Ayler.
The sound quality may be pretty raggedy, but that hardly matters—this is history.
Albert Ayler, tenor saxophone (“Love Cry,” “Truth Is Marching In,” “Our Prayer”), live, John Coltrane’s funeral, St. Peter’s Lutheran Church, New York, July 21, 1967
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lagniappe
Click for a clearer image.
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Pinelawn Memorial Park, Farmingdale, New York
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Trane was the father. Pharoah was the son. I was the holy ghost.—Albert Ayler