This is spinning tonight. Been in a heavy jazz mood lately. I think it’s the leaves changing, the air cooling, and dusk hitting sooner in the evening. Fall makes me want to spin Coltrane, Davis, Monk, and Tyner. Most people correlate jazz with the color blue. Not me. I think of autumn hues when I hear albums like A Love Supreme, Nefertiti, and Monk’s Dream. I hear Bitches Brew and I see burnt orange and burning reds as I close my eyes while “Spanish Key” fills my ears. Sure, Kind of Blue elicits cool blues and dark, smoky grays. And there’s a smooth finish that goes with that record like a single malt scotch. But that’s not that jazz that got me. That’s not the jazz that owned me and showed me what was behind the curtain. That jazz was Coltrane screeching to the heavens. Or Davis’ sexually and spiritually charged dirges in the late 60s and early 70s, splicing hours of blood and sweat commited to tape with Teo Macero. It was Ornette Coleman spraying notes from his horn like flames licking at the night sky. That was and is the jazz that opened my eyes to the true expression of love for the universe. The soul’s language.
Africa/Brass is as big band as Coltrane got. Songs arranged and conducted by Coltrane’s good friend Eric Dolphy, it’s a three song masterpiece, with side one filled with the 16 minute opus “Africa”. This feels like Coltrane beginning his search for a connection with the universe through his music. A beautiful beginning it is.
Before this, Bitches Brew did its magic as I finished the Coltrane biography ‘Chasin’ The Trane’.