Don’t be afraid of Cecil Taylor; he
won’t hurt you, he just wants to make beautiful music. He’s earned a reputation
as a challenging jazz musician, instrumental (along with Ornette Coleman) in
ushering in “free jazz” in the 50’s and 60’s. But mostly the music that’s made
him notorious came later than this, after a 1962 breakthrough where he found
rhythm sections ready to go out on a limb with him and try something new. In
the years leading up to that from his 1957 debut Jazz Advance, through
the great 1958 release Looking Ahead! to his 1959 albums Hard Driving
Jazz (later issued under John Coltrane’s name as Coltranetime) and Love
For Sale, Taylor charted a course that challenged some but still worked
within the boundaries of what people referred to as jazz, mainly held to the
earth by solid bass and drum support. But after fairly indifferent sales for
those albums he connected with the jazz writer Nat Hentoff, whose position as
A&R man at the newly formed Candid Records meant that he could sign and
give artistic freedom to a number of musicians working outside the mainstream
of jazz. And Taylor didn’t waste the opportunity, producing several albums’
worth of material over a few recording sessions in October 1960 and January
1961, starting with this release. As with the titles of his first couple
records (or Ornette’s similarly forward-thinking The Shape of Jazz To Come
or Change of the Century) Taylor’s title promises a new world and a new
approach to jazz here and he delivers it.
Though earlier on in his career
Taylor took flack from critics unwilling to give his new music a shot, by this
time he didn't really have anything more to prove to anybody - you take him
seriously if you hear him play, simple as that. You may not like it, but
there's no denying that he's for real. The record kicks off with “Air” where
drummer Dennis Charles announces the opening with a drum fanfare into which
Cecil drops a
thoroughly discordant but rhythmically solid (albeit tricky)
melody. Charles and bassist Buell Neidlinger come back in with a cooking rhythm
and the young saxophonist Archie Shepp takes the lead solo (two years before
his debut album), sounding somewhat tentative here with Taylor comping
menacingly behind him – or maybe that’s me projecting because when Taylor takes
the lead Shepp's hesitant take on things is blown out of the memory within a
few seconds, as he dissects the rhythm like a master surgeon, and plays around
a tonal idea and stays challenging and dissonant without going completely
atonal and aleatoric. Taylor and Charles trade off phrases as the piece draws
to a close and Shepp reappears to say goodbye – but he’ll be back for the
closing track, don’t worry. Next up is the lovely Rodgers & Hammerstein
ballad "This Nearly Was Mine" (from South Pacific), performed as a trio with Neidlinger and Charles. In Cecil's hands it retains its beauty but it's edgy and works the extremes of the instrument and can jangle your nerves if you're the sort to let it get under your skin instead of immersing yourself. But if you immerse, you will find yourself right in his world. We also have "Port of Call," a Taylor original that's got a nice melodic line (which of course he immediately clutters up and subjects to changes) and might be the most accessible thing here for a listener looking for something more traditionally jazzy to hook into, though Taylor’s pixellated solo still may rattle the unwary. Following that is "E.B.," probably my favorite piece of the set. It's again a trio and is taken at a rocketing tempo with Dennis Charles working alongside Taylor's subversions of the riff that characterizes the piece in a way that reminds me of Blakey and Monk's interplay on Monk's underrated tune "Introspection." All the while Buell Neidlinger drives fiercely underneath and provides a grounding to even Taylor's wildest moments of solo flight. Closing things is the ballad "Lazy Afternoon" where Shepp acquits himself with a nice solo and some good back and forth with Cecil - still not quite in Taylor's league (to be fair, hardly anyone is), but he simply sounds great here, craggy tone and all - and helps make the piece work. Taylor of course takes what could be a languid stroll through an old tune and makes it something altogether more interesting while the rhythm mainly steers clear and lets him fly, especially in the opening improvisation.
All in all,
the album is a great way in to Taylor's music, a nice balance of accessible and
complex, and one of his finest early records – possibly the best of all his
pre-1962 albums. From here he’d get more challenging as he found players open
to his unique rhythmic and harmonic approach, but the early years are a
fascinating glimpse of how Taylor could make his ideas work within a relatively
traditional framework. The friction of his striving often left behind some
great work.
- Patrick
Brown
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