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(From Jazz Monthly No. 153, November, 1967) - UK
© W. A. Baldwin ALBERT AYLER—CONSERVATIVE REVOLUTION? (3) BY W. A. BALDWIN HOLY GHOST Impulse A-90, HMV CLP 1932 I HAVE pointed out that on his 1965 recordings Ayler’s style shows considerable development when compared with his earlier work. On this single Ayler performance, the highlight of an anthology LP, the new style is not quite developed to perfection, but is sufficiently formed for its main characteristics to be apparent. It is clear that Ayler is concerned with an even more intense emotional expression than can be found on his earlier recordings. The subtlety and rhythmic complexity of “Spiritual Unity” have been replaced by a more directly forceful style, with a more obvious motivic development and more straightforward accenting. The directness of this style is reinforced by Ayler’s abandonment of the earlier tendency to slur together lines of notes. Here the notes are articulated often at great speed, which adds to the tension, but each note in addition is struck with a sharp clarity which is consistent with Ayler’s tendency to avoid any kind of ambiguity. Most obviously of all, Ayler’s tone, which on earlier recordings is capable of many different shadings, assumes on these recordings a strident, imperious quality which makes them particularly daunting to the newcomer. The emotional climate is kept at its most intense by a more general use of the extreme high register.
Whether this change of emphasis represents an advance on his earlier achievements or a decline must remain a matter of personal opinion. There is no doubt that this new style is in some ways very limited. The more straightforward development means a loss in the variety of the ideas precious found in a solo, and can lead to banal repetition of the sort which I earlier accused John Tchichai of falling into. Most of the time however, Ayler’s imagination allows him to surprise the listener even when repeating one basic idea in a number of consecutive phrases. As I have said, he already tended in his earlier work to do this by means of finding the unexpected interval, making particular use of sudden changes of register, and by his timing. Ayler’s very fine sense of timing and phrasing does suffer a little on the later recordings due to the greater number of notes that he plays: however the fact that his playing is more straightforward rhythmically tends to result in a more powerful swing, accentuated on this record by Lewis Worrell’s steady bass line.
Other disadvantages of this approach, beside the restricted imagination, on a melodic and rhythmic level, and Ayler’s less varied use of tonal effects, are to be found in Ayler’s virtual abandonment of his earlier extremely sensitive use of dynamics, replaced by a tendency to blow at maximum volume all the time and the lack of variety of mood implied above. This is not to suggest that the prevailing mood is desperately sad. As I made clear with regard to his earlier recordings, a sort of fierce joy comes from the release in this uninhibited manner of such strong emotion.
While I myself tend to regret the limitations of this style, I must admit to being hardly conscious of them while actually listening to Ayler’s solos, except when the tension is not entirely sustained throughout. I think there is a parallel here with bebop, also a limited form of music, the limitations of which are nevertheless easily overlooked when one is listening to a soloist of such emotional force and unflagging inventiveness as Charlie Parker.
Certainly Ayler’s inventiveness does not let him down on Holy Ghost. The performance begins with a very simple rhythmic figure used as a theme, which Don Ayler (trumpet) then expands but does not take up as the basis for the development of his solo. This solo, his first on record, does not in fact seem to be developed along any very clear lines at all, and turns out to be merely a collection of his favourite phrases. An interesting device is used for Albert Ayler’s entry, a sort of “semi” stop-time in which the bass carries on with its normal accompaniment while Sonny Murray lays out. The horns play stop-time figures, first Don Ayler (ending his solo) and then Albert Ayler (beginning his). This device is repeated in the tenor solo, when Albert Ayler builds up considerable tension by setting stop-time figures to the strongly rhythmic accompaniment of bassist Lewis Worrell.
A cello solo from Joel Freedman follows. He leans predictably quite strongly on a Bartok influence but his playing shows a good sense of jazz rhythm, being quite free and relaxed, and although it does not match the intensity of Ayler’s his solo is well sustained and the change of mood is in fact timely. Lewis Worrell follows with a solo which is very much in the same vein as his accompaniment throughout the performance, with a strong but supple beat, and just a suggestion of a Latin flavour (!). By comparison Sonny Murray’s accompaniment on this recording does not seem to help the soloists very much, and seems to have become merely a background of percussive effects. This is a tendency which showed itself in his earlier work but which seems to dominate his style on the 1965 recordings, so that he gives the soloists only very brief and intermittent rhythmic support. Perhaps this is a rash judgement, as he is not very well recorded: at least I suspect that a better recording of Murray’s contribution might reveal more than is immediately obvious from these records.
The performance concludes with a fairly brief section of collective improvisation, which seems to have little continuity on a thematic level, or rapport between the different horns, so that apart from the 4/4 time and although there are some interesting melodic fragments, it seems in parts little more than noise. In spite of this I find it exciting to listen to, but I find it difficult to understand why. I suspect that the reason lies in its position rather than anything else: it seems a fitting conclusion to a performance in which the most powerful emotion has been built up to by a logical and therefore acceptable development (in Albert Ayler’s solo)—since the tension has been raised to such a point the incoherence of the collective section is less important; the ground work, the development of a musical argument which will convince the listener, has already been done, and no further logical development is required.
This seems to me at least to be the probable reason why such an essentially incoherent passage in a performance is acceptable. It is significant that when Ayler recorded for BBC-2 he made the mistake of opening his performance with a couple of minutes of this collective playing, which then seemed merely absurd: in spite of myself I couldn’t help sharing the general amusement. So although this collective playing may be at times appropriate in the context of a particular performance, it certainly does not seem to be able to stand up by itself, and it is in fact more acceptable as a rule if it is fairly short in duration, and preferably held together somewhat by having one or two recognizable motifs—the similar sections on Bells and Spirits Rejoice are better in this respect.
As far as Ayler’s own playing is concerned it must be admitted that on this record he shows little of his usual technical command. Whether because of a bad reed, or whether he was pushing his technique beyond its limits, his solo here is distinguished by some untypical clinkers. Quite a few notes are badly articulated, one or two coming out as little more than escaping air, and another note although perfectly played hardly sounds like the right one. Much play is made by opponents of the New Thing of the fact that it is impossible, from a technical point of view, to point out that any particular note is wrong. This does not mean that New Thing musicians can get away with a lack of instrumental control: the listener can still say what sounds wrong to him, which after all is what matters. It is certainly apparent to me that apart from the one or two very slight lapses on Ghosts and the more serious failings here, Ayler’s command of all registers of his instrument is absolute, his most recent recording of all, Spirits Rejoice, showing a mastery of the tenor saxophone which will probably never be equalled.
Apart from this uncertainty of his technique Ayler plays on Holy Ghost one of his finest individual solos. The performance as a whole is surpassed by the later Bells only because the contributions of the other musicians, particularly Don Ayler, are greatly improved. BELLS ESP 1010 THIS record has achieved some notoriety due to its ridiculously short playing time, only being recorded on one side. In spite of this it is a record well worth obtaining, as it represents what is possibly Ayler’s greatest achievement. The most striking aspect of it is the very conciseness that Ayler has achieved in his solos. It has long been a myth, assiduously promoted by some of the more-or-less professional opponents of the New Thing, that over-long solos are an intrinsic part of the style. In fact of course jazz musicians have probably always played much longer in “live” conditions than their recordings suggest, and the coming of the LP record has allowed longer performances and therefore longer solos to be preserved. While there have been plenty of New Thing musicians who have shared the modern tendency to put on record long solos which are often, though not invariably, very loosely constructed, such musicians (Coltrane is a good example) have usually been conventional modernists attempting to arrive at a coherent “free” jazz style by means of continual and frequently lengthy experiment.
Although his own writings can sometimes suggest that he is in favour of the experimenters, it is Max Harrison who has pointed out in this magazine (January 1967) the non-experimental nature of all really creative art. Ornette Coleman and Albert Ayler, are, I feel, the most creative musicians within the New Thing, and it is significant that neither of them is given to long-winded soloing or to any kind of “casting around quite aimlessly” which, as Max Harrison remarks is what the real experimenter does.
A re-assessment of the real nature of the New Thing is, as I have earlier suggested, long overdue. The general idea that the New Thing musicians have expanded still further the freedom gained by jazz musicians as a progressive development throughout jazz, seems to me to be rather wide of the mark. The freedom from conventional ideas of pitching, intonation etc. allegedly gained by the New Thing musicians is in fact found with many New Orleans musicians and blues singers. It has become less apparent in later developments in jazz, a tendency which reached its highest point perhaps in the ‘50s with the widespread notion that it was necessary for jazz musicians to have a classical training, which seems in retrospect to have resulted in a generation of poor jazzmen if good musicians. Although of course such an undeniably important figure as Cecil Taylor has a classical training, the general tendency in the New Thing has been nothing more than to restore the original situation where musicians handled their instruments as they pleased. So much for the exponents of theories of a continuous development in jazz. I am going to suggest, and I consider Bells to be a powerful piece of evidence, that the real tendency of the New Thing, first apparent in the work of Ornette Coleman, and reaching its highest point in Albert Ayler, has been not to reach towards a greater degree of freedom, even though their own statements may suggest this, but rather to replace the existing form of modern jazz, which was becoming excessively free, with a different but essentially more disciplined approach. It is certainly true that they have cast aside such conventions as they find unhelpful but it seems clear to me that the modernist improvising on an “advanced” chord sequence has a greater choice of potential melodic lines than an Albert Ayler improvising a strict motivic development, and I suspect that this freedom is largely responsible for the failure of most modernists to develop an individual style. After all, if we consider what modernists are trying to do it is really rather astonishing. Spurning (in the case of most of them) any help from the original melody, they set out to improvise new melodic lines over a chord-sequence. One needs no knowledge of harmony to see that this chord sequence becomes less of a guide to the improviser the more we advance along the “evolutionary path”. The New Orleans or Swing improvisation has a form more-or-less imposed on it by the shape of the original melody—this becomes less and less the case until with a Coltrane there is virtually no form imposed on the music at all—he must find his own. And while there are musicians able to really improvise fresh ideas and create a self-contained structure, they are far outnumbered by those who string together conventional phrases in no particular order beyond that of conforming to the increasingly loose structure of the chord sequence. Many modernists, evidently desiring to avoid the conventional phrases, have sought refuge in pushing even further the supposedly logical evolution of jazz, in more dissonant harmonies, in more self-consciously complex rhythms. Examples can be found in the work of Coltrane, of (to a certain extent at least) Cecil Taylor, and of the Blue Note school already dealt with briefly. Another parallel but opposite approach is a complete break with tradition resulting in something near to anarchy. The “Free Form” of Joe Harriott in this country as well as the work of some lesser American musicians are examples, but it must be said that these two tendencies, although seemingly opposed, often have much the same result. With such a performance as Les Noirs Marchant from Hutcherson’s “Dialogue” (Blue Note) complexity might be said to have been developed to a meeting-point with confusion. Other modernists have tried to find the answer to their dilemma by combining jazz with classical music, early and modern, with Indian music and various other different musical traditions.
I may be wrong, but I am inclined to doubt that the hard strivings of any of these gentlemen will ever allow them to achieve the easy freedom found with Coleman and Ayler. This real freedom is achieved by carefully avoiding anything which is either completely random or contrived, and simply allowing their own sense of form to dictate to them what is logical and appropriate. They are not concerned with performing to any formula or system, but simply with making a complete, self-contained statement. This concern leads them to be more systematic in reality than those who are trying to adhere to a formula. That this sense of form is evidently merely instinctive does not make it any less real, and, as I have said, this record is the most conclusive possible proof of that.
Bells consists of three separate pieces. The first is based on the same “theme” as Holy Ghost and is opened by a short section of collective improvisation which does not add up to much but launches Don Ayler on a very good trumpet solo, a very imaginative development of a deliberately restricted range of ideas. Don Ayler’s imagination is largely directed towards rhythmic reorganization rather than melodic inventiveness as such. Indeed he tends to avoid inventing new melodic lines, and seems concerned with building a solo out of some particular idea. And he builds very strongly in fact, sustaining interest right throughout his solo; there is no anti-climax towards the end of this solo, which is interrupted (doubtless intentionally) by Albert Ayler, who begins by making use of material similar to that of Don Ayler and then develops away from this to make a brilliantly logical construction. This solo, I feel, merits close examination, for it expresses as coherently as it does its very powerful emotional message because of its fine construction, which relies mainly on strictly motivic development, as well as to some extent on traditional “call-and-response” patterns. The solo consists of twenty-two phrases, the relationships between them being indicated below:
Phrase
1 An idea based on an idea in Don Ayler’s solo.
2 Based on first phrase.
3 Based on first two, but the second half extended with a striking interval to form a new idea. (Given further prominence by strong accent).
4 New idea in second half of phrase 3 used to begin new line.
5 Carries on from phrase 4 but also refers back to Don Ayler’s original idea.
6 Develops from phrase 5, but the second half resembles the last part of phrase 3.
The first six phrases form an interesting structure. It should be clear that Ayler uses the device, in order to give emphasis to an idea, of making it the culmination of two separate developments (a device he also uses in his second solo). In this case the idea shared by the latter half of phrases 3 and 6 is to form the basis of the subsequent motivic development and therefore needs to be well stressed. To continue:
Phrase
7 Consists of last part of phrases 3 and 6 played twice (modified slightly).
8 Idea repeated again three times in modified form but forming a quite different phrase.
9 Carries on from 8 but makes use of repeated extremely high note to build tension. Whole phrase in extreme high register.
Throughout these three phrases tension is heightened by a progressive rise to the higher harmonies of which Ayler is capable.
Phrase
10 Coming down the scale a little. Forms a “response” to phrase 9.
11 Developed from a figure at the end of 10.
12 This phrase seems very appropriate but more difficult to explain why. To a certain extent it is a response to 11, but I think it is also effective due to a contrast between its three lower-register “honks” (which form a strongly rhythmical figure) and the earlier higher register, almost arrhythmic lines.
13 Repeat of l2.
14 Based clearly on 12/13.
15 Based on 14, but played more rapidly and rising to the higher register.
16 Another slight variation, played more rapidly and pitched higher.
17 Speeded up further still, pitched even higher.
Another climax is prepared by a progressive rise to the upper register. This may seem a rather obvious device on paper, but is effective in practice. Ayler repeats the same idea but finds interesting slight variations each time. The climax then arrives.
18 Develops out of previous figure, makes use of leap down to lower register, repeated but with lesser interval the second time. The two lower notes are stressed and played with powerful intonation, and make a rhythmic figure which recalls that in 12. Ayler makes the most of this idea.
19 Near-repeat of 18.
20 19 speeded-up and extended—intervals becoming closer and rising again to upper register.
21 Developed out of second half of 20—”response” to it (anti-climactic).
22 Based on 21, but restores some tension, is interrupted by Charles Tyler playing alto.
Thus the performance passes on to the next solo while maintaining considerable tension, which Tyler is in fact unable to keep up, as although he plays some good ideas his solo is not so perfectly organised as Ayler’s.
Jazz critics, it has been pointed out, often use superlatives excessively, and one which is used very often and is in fact least often appropriate to an improvisation is to say that “every note counts”. This is one of the very, very few solos of which that is really true.
The first number concludes with two more collective improvisations separated by a bass and drums section. These collective improvisations are reasonably coherent and effective, being dominated by repeated motifs. In the second Charles Tyler reintroduces a phrase from his solo as a basis for further development, and this tends to give some unity to the performance.
The second number is a solo by Albert Ayler at a slow tempo. Again the solo is beautifully developed, continually shifting in mood while held together by the thematic link between each phrase and the next, with one recurring motif used very effectively throughout the solo. One might regard this motif as the theme. It is suggested in the opening phrase, but there is no separate, stated theme.
As mentioned above, Ayler makes use of the device used in the opening phrases of his first solo of emphasizing an idea by leading up to it twice. Here this becomes a means of ending the performance in a very satisfying way. Ayler builds up to a very fine, lyrical phrase which seems a fitting conclusion to the solo, but then returns to play a variation on his previous development and lead back to the same phrase, thereby giving it a greater air of finality. A very fine performance, and a fairly approachable one, as Ayler’s tone avoids its occasional over-ripe romantic flavour on slow numbers and, on the other hand, the aggressive quality of his tone on the other sections of this record.
The third performance, which I believe is the one really called Bells, is based on brass band motifs. I think it is probably a head arrangement, as it does not sound improvised. Each horn takes a solo which is not based on the brass band themes, but is nevertheless thematic in its development, each soloist seeming to start off at random but throwing up a theme in the course of his solo. Ayler takes the first solo and I could analyse it in the same way as his solo on the first number, as it is quite as well developed, although a little too repetitive in parts. Charles Tyler’s solo is again a little disorganized but shows promise in his melodic inventiveness. Don Ayler’s solo is more inventive in the conventional sense than his first solo, not being based on such restricted material and showing a considerable melodic gift. A really wild collective section concludes the performance, being followed by a brief recapitulation of the brass-band style theme. Once again Charles Tyler introduces the same motif from the first number into the collective improvisation, which makes one suspect that this is a deliberate means of tying together the performance as a whole.
This is a record which repays the most careful listening. It certainly makes nonsense of those usual critical clichés which I referred to when beginning this study of Ayler’s work. Any critic who maintains in the face of this record that Ayler’s playing is “lacking in form” simply testifies to his own inability to listen.
As I pointed out with regard to Spiritual Unity, Ayler’s concern with form is not a merely pedantic approach. This record is a tremendously powerful experience because the tremendously powerful feeling behind it is contained in such a satisfying form. Each of Ayler’s solos on this record is a perfect statement, a quality only found in the very greatest improvisations. More often we have to accept a certain degree of incoherence in a jazz performance because of its other virtues, such as spontaneity and directness of feeling: only a masterpiece combines real improvisation with perfect form. SPIRITS REJOICE ESP 1020 AFTER Bells this record is perhaps understandably something of a disappointment. Two of the tracks, Holy Family and Angels seem intended purely as light relief, and although quite enjoyable as such, serve to fill out the playing time without really adding very much to the record. Of the remaining three numbers the title track is the longest, but is largely occupied by Ayler’s brass band style playing. While again I must admit to enjoying this, it does not have the powerful emotional impact of the Ayler brothers’ soloing. I was frankly not inclined to take it at all seriously when I first heard it on Bells: subsequent developments, such as the BBC-2 recording, suggest that the Aylers take this side of their playing very seriously indeed. As a serious piece of music in brass band style I think Spirits Rejoice is superior to Bells, but here as before there is a clash of mood between the brass band passages and the solos, which except for Don Ayler’s are not based on the themes. It is in fact rather strange to note that on this record in general Albert Ayler is pretty convincingly cut by his brother. Don Ayler is willing to make use of the theme as a starting point for each of his solos, and his solo on D.C. is really a magnificent example of the way in which his great imagination can make a solo of considerable variety out of deliberately limited material. On this track Albert Ayler also builds off the theme to good effect. There are one or two things about his playing, especially on Spirits Rejoice and Prophet which rather tend to spoil their development. Ayler shows a tendency to overdo the lower-register “honks” as well as to indulge in a fair amount of mere repetition. The fact that he also plays some of his most brilliant ideas on record makes up for this to some extent, but at times his usual rhythmic assurance lets him down a little. His solos on Spirits Rejoice and Prophet are not very strongly rhythmic at all in places and he is quite awkward in his phrasing towards the beginning of the otherwise very fine D.C. solo. Charles Tyler does not justify much of the promise he showed on the earlier recording, his two solos, on the title track and on D.C., not being very brilliant although the latter has some unity of construction, being based around one particular sound. Unfortunately this sound becomes rather tiresome as we are offered little else.
Prophet, another performance based on the theme of Holy Ghost and the first part of Bells, is interestingly different in that the theme is re-iterated throughout the performance, helping to tie it together. As indicated above, Albert Ayler’s two solos alternate between mediocrity and brilliance. Don Ayler seems more dependable and consistent on this form, although he is never as exciting as his brother is at his best. The sections of collective improvisation, which conclude this track and Prophet are not very coherent but seem appropriate after the tension generated in the solos.
The presence of two basses makes it difficult (with my monaural copy) to comment upon their work. However one of the basses which I think is Henry Grimes, plays a strongly rhythmic accompaniment on D.C. Fairly strong rhythmic support is also given on Prophet but comparatively little on the solos from the title track. There are a couple of good bass solos on D.C., which I take to be by Grimes and Peacock in that order. Once again Sunny Murray’s contribution seems to have more dramatic than musical effect, although again his contribution may be greater than the recording allows us to hear; nevertheless it is superior to Bells in this respect. Albert Ayler — Conservative Revolution? (4) Articles Bibliography |
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