Listening with Ornette Coleman

[Lazaro Vega]

I've heard that "Chronology" is an "I Got Rhythm" variant at heart, and though harmony wasn't the anchor, it was still present and available in O.C.'s music. Charlie Haden spoke to the method the quartet used when performing in that Ken Burns "Jazz." Basically he said they had an agreed upon starting point, but then had to listen to where Ornette was going to go during the blowing sections. It could have been through some changes, or not -- and it's that lack of primacy, not absence, which made it different.

Edited September 27, 2006 by Lazaro Vega

[kh1958]

Some more Ornette quotes. (The writer incorrectly states that his last appearance in Fort Worth was 1983, when in fact he appeared at the Caravan of Dreams several more times over the next few years.)

D

Sultan of 'Sound'; At 76, Fort Worth native Ornette Coleman releases a bold new CD that's one of the prolific jazz titan's best

By CHRIS VAUGHN

STAR-TELEGRAM STAFF WRITER

1293 words

24 September 2006

The Fort-Worth Star-Telegram

Tarrant

5

English

Copyright © 2006 The Fort-Worth Star-Telegram. All rights reserved.

Of all the lions of jazz in the 1950s and '60s -- a period in which the creativity of American musicians peaked, yet was sadly overshadowed by English mop-tops and tie-dyed peace anthems -- Ornette Coleman is one of the few still living.

His lungs must be as pink as ever, as anyone who has seen him in concert in recent years will attest. At age 76, the Fort Worth-born musician is anything but a doddering shell attempting to live up to his considerable legacy. The years have not in the least dimmed his intellectual curiosity, prolific composing or musical adventurousness.

"More and more, I realize music is more of an idea than an arrangement," says Coleman by phone from his home in Manhattan. "Most music is an arrangement. In my case, the guys who play with me play it where they hear it, instead of backing me up where I'm going."

He has a new record that's proof of his continued daring vision, and though Coleman is long finished shocking critics and sparking fistfights, his music is no less ambitious than it was 40 years ago when he blew up jazz's standard format.

Sound Grammar , released this month on his own label of the same name, is Coleman's first record in 10 years and, rather staggeringly, his 56th since 1958.

The CD is the result of a musical journey he embarked on three years ago with his son, Denardo Coleman, on drums, and two bassists: Greg Cohen, a jazzman who plucks; and Tony Falanga, a classically trained player who bows.

The band deserves much of the credit for Sound Grammar , recorded live in Ludwigshafen, Germany, in October 2005. Coleman had done a fair bit of recording in his studio in New York over the previous three years, but the band really liked the sets they played in Italy and Germany.

"We'd done the same repertoire in Italy, and it had gotten stronger," Coleman says. "So when we played in Germany, everybody thought they would like to [release] that one."

Coleman has always sounded best at his most stripped-down, as on The Shape of Jazz to Come , the two-volume Live at the Golden Circle in Stockholm and Love Call , a record he did with his old Fort Worth friend Dewey Redman.

The richly expressive sound of Coleman's alto horn, so vocal in its phrasing and pitch, and that hint of blues in his sound (you can still hear Fort Worth in him after all these years) have always mixed best with the rhythmic simplicity of a drum set, a bass and not a whole lot more.

That's why Sound Grammar is one of his best works in years, a typically complex Coleman idea executed with wondrous simplicity.

The second track, Sleep Talking , is the most plaintively beautiful song Coleman has written in a long while. With a sultry beat and Coleman's emotional and repeating melodies, it sounds like a Raymond Chandler story.

"The thing I had in mind with the melody was when you're dreaming, do you hear music?" Coleman says.

Uncharacteristically, he has reprised a couple of old tunes, including Turnaround from Tomorrow Is the Question! and Song X from the album of the same title, a collaboration with Pat Metheny.

Coleman's alto, and, sparingly, his turns on trumpet and violin, obviously carry every song, his distinct phrasing, rapid key changes and unconventional improvisation giving every other musician the melodic hook they need to work off of.

Cohen, a gifted bassist, provides Coleman's music its jazz backbone. Drummer Denardo Coleman, who has played with his father since he was a child, is intuitively with his dad's sound, moving in and out of the front with a deft rhythmic touch. These three would make a formidable trio.

But it's Falanga who makes the ensemble both musically daring and yet more melodically accessible than his more recent records. He contributes an undercurrent of evocative sound that moves with Ornette Coleman's alto -- and occasionally against it. On Once Only , Coleman's playing is mostly sunshine and upbeat, where Falanga's bass is deepening the piece by darkening it.

Coleman, born to a cook and a seamstress on the outskirts of downtown Fort Worth in the early days of the Depression, made his name in the juke joints on the north and south sides in the '40s and early '50s. No one could imitate Charlie Parker note for note better than he could.

Jazz was the scene then, and the local leader everyone looked up to was Red Connor. In a matter of a few years, Fort Worth spawned an inordinate number of notables -- Redman, Bobby Simmons, "King" Curtis Ousley, Prince Lasha, Julius Hemphill, Charles Moffett.

Ornette Coleman became the biggest, of course, exploding onto the New York scene in the late '50s with his own compositions (almost everyone else still riffed off the standards) and a curious sound that bucked the strict adherence to predictable and melodic chord changes.

He writes a melody for each song, then asks the other musicians to play their own melodies, creating a more complex harmonic sound in which no one is the "lead" and no one the "rhythm." He used to call it "harmolodics," but now his preferred term is "sound grammar." It's as much a philosophy as a technique, and only gifted and especially nimble musicians can make their creativity within a song intersect with Coleman's vision.

"They can go anywhere they want," he says. "I don't tell them where to go. It's like sound chemistry."

As a result, his music has always demanded a listener. It's not for hitting the dance floor or making romance. Neither is it "free jazz" that is utterly atonal and discordant.

"Total freedom does not mean playing out of key or playing a note that isn't what you're trying to do with the piece," he says.

Several years ago, Coleman was asked to name the best song he ever wrote, and was probably expected to answer Lonely Woman or Congeniality . Instead, he said he hadn't written his favorite piece yet. Those who play with him are forever having to learn new music.

"I write music to inspire the guys who play with me," he said. "I feel like I'm cheating the musicians, using their energy to make money, if I don't give them new music. I want them to have their human rights."

Coleman rarely comes back to Fort Worth. He hasn't played in his hometown since he opened the now-closed Caravan of Dreams in Sundance Square in 1983. Before that, he hadn't played in Fort Worth since 1966.

But his conversations are peppered with memories of a local scene that's long gone (I.M. Terrell High School, Leonards Department Store, the Jim Hotel and the China Doll club), and everyone in New York can tell he's a Texan by the way he emphasizes "Fort," not "Worth."

Asked when he would come back and play Cowtown, Coleman answers that he doesn't know anyone to talk to about it anymore.

But, he says, "I'd like to play it tomorrow."

Chris Vaughn, (817) 390-7547 cvaughn@star-telegram.com

[ep1str0phy]

I was just having a conversation about Ornette and more inside contexts. There's an intriguing element to his phrasing that refuses to adhere to the formulaic nature of the more traditional jazz progressions (e.g., rhythm changes, blues); even when playing these forms, Ornette does not usually play even lines, pulling out of 8-bar patterns and moving around, and not on, downbeats (Tomorrow is the Question comes to mind). Regardless of where this comes from--and, by anecdotal accounts, it's a conscious move away from bop convention (there's that old story where Ornette knocks the drummer--Ed Blackwell, was it?--for hitting the downbeat and cutting off his phrase)--it's a refreshing sensibility that works even when, perhaps especially when, viewed in light of fixed form--paving the way for the rhythmic and metrical liberties of a lot of later stuff.

In all fairness to youmustbe, by the way--and there's a gut reaction on both sides of the "he can/can't play" debate--the critical gradients can be pretty subtle. As far as I'm concerned, the musicality can go any way--if it hits you deep (as it obviously has youmustbe, and many here), it counts. Jesus does it count.

Edited September 27, 2006 by ep1str0phy

[JSngry]

I think that what Ornette meant about Trane is that it was his opinion that Trane got too hung up in the math of it all, at the at least partial expense of what you migh call his "native humanity".

I can see the point, because part of Trane's legacy is that he closed the door when he left the room. Locked it, even. Countless players over the last 40 years have tried to find themselves within Trane's methodologies, to go past him by going through him, and so far ain't nobody made it, or even come close. It could be argued that a "style" that was primarily based on "native humanity" would allow at least a few people to get through it and on into someplace else. But it ain't happened. You can say that that's because it's all being based on imitation, "misunderstanding" or whatever, and you may be right. But still...

OTOH, there's no denying the "native humanity" of the passion with which Trane approached and delivered his work. Even if you choose to view his musical legacy as a series of elaborate, final constructs that are ultimately a dead end for anybody/everybody else, there's no denying the very real human inspiration that the guy provides all who strive to learn and grow. On that level too, he may be "unapproachable", but that's "our" fault, not his.

As to how I feel about it all, hell, it all depends. I never even considered going the Trane route, because I never saw where it would lead me other than to frustration. Not so Lester Young, Sonny Rollins or Albert Ayler. But geez, I love the cat and his music at least as much as anybody else, and I continue to do so to this day.

One thing I decided long ago was that reading Ornette quotes is not a task in which literalism is a virtue. Lots of lines to read between, and plenty of "interpretation" needed. Nothing here to dissuade me of that.

[JSngry]

Upon further reflection in the pursuit of succinctuality, what I think Ornette was saying was that he felt that Trane got wrapped up in pursuing his (Trane's) particular math-based methadology to a degree that he (Ornette) felt to be less than ideal.

[AllenLowe]

exactly - sort of like opening one door and finding another...however, I do think we hear hints toward the end that he was thinking of other ways to go (the duets with Rashid Ali, for example) -

[JSngry]

Well, yes and no, I think. Interstellar Space is extremely mathematical in it's constructions, and at the same time equally transcendant in its spirit. I've always felt that this was Trane's "Moses On The Mountaintop" moment, his one glimpse of the Promised Land that he had been busting his ass all those years to get to. So any "other way" subconsciously or otherwise probably involved what actually happened - leaving the building.

I do believe the stories of him having premonitions of his impending demise. What I don't know is how seriously he took them or how they affected his playing at any given time. But the story as it played out is too perfect a "cosmic tale" to not give at least fleeting contemplation to the possibility that he knew his time was up and somehow willed himself into (or was blessed with, if you wanna go there with it...) one moment of total unity before succumbing to his fate.

[jazzbo]

I can see that "total unity" ... yeah. I hear the kitchen sink in there too.

Amazing music throughout that Interstellar Space. Each time I open myself to it I encounter yet something else I swear wasn't there the last time, so to speak.

[Guest youmustbe]

When Trane was recording what became Stellar regions, he asked Charles Davis to sit in the control room and hold up his fingers as the minutes went by. He didn't want to play too long.

[Guest youmustbe]

Trane;s influence went beyond Jazz, like Ornette's...not just Santana, or the Byrds before that, but Terry Riley, The Godfather of Minimalism told me he used to go night after night to Jazz Workshop in SF to hear Trane...

Sometimes it goes to the strangest places. Steve Reich told me he used to go to Birdland as a kid, Bud, Monk et al...but more importantly he told me and has said in interviews, that he came up with his 'phase' patterns by trying to imitate Kenny Clarke's cymbal sound.

[Guy Berger]

Upon further reflection in the pursuit of succinctuality, what I think Ornette was saying was that he felt that Trane got wrapped up in pursuing his (Trane's) particular math-based methadology to a degree that he (Ornette) felt to be less than ideal.

I think this nails it. I must say I disagree with Ornette on this point.

Guy

[ep1str0phy]

When Trane was recording what became Stellar regions, he asked Charles Davis to sit in the control room and hold up his fingers as the minutes went by. He didn't want to play too long.

Whoa. Frankly, I would've liked to have heard some Charles Davis on those sides...

[jazzbo]

Trane;s influence went beyond Jazz, like Ornette's...not just Santana, or the Byrds before that, but Terry Riley, The Godfather of Minimalism told me he used to go night after night to Jazz Workshop in SF to hear Trane...

Sometimes it goes to the strangest places. Steve Reich told me he used to go to Birdland as a kid, Bud, Monk et al...but more importantly he told me and has said in interviews, that he came up with his 'phase' patterns by trying to imitate Kenny Clarke's cymbal sound.

That's very interesting about Klook and I hadn't heard that before. (I'm a Klook nut!)

Add the Grateful Dead to nonjazzers who were very influenced by Coltrane.

Edited September 28, 2006 by jazzbo

[AllenLowe]

"I think this nails it. I must say I disagree with Ornette on this point."

but I think this is why Ornette is so damn smart - even when I think he's wrong, I also know that he's right, because everything he says is so correct for his way of thinking and playing -

it's very similar to the way I feel when I read Larry Kart's criticism of Bill Evans - though I disagree with Larrry, I somehow know that he's absolutely right - a paradox -

Edited September 28, 2006 by AllenLowe

[Guest youmustbe]

Trane asked Charles to play with him a lot before Shepp, and then Pharaoh. Trane seems to have had the 2 sax sound in his head a lot .

I have photo of Charles with baritone in hand waiting to go up and solo after Trane at the Half Note. in 65.

Ornette sat in on trumpet at the Half Note at that time, and there was a rumor he was going to join Trane's band.

I don't remember now whethr Trane asked Ornette to be on Ascension....I know he asked Rashied to be on it but Rashied didn't want to play with Elvin. I remember seeing the band when they were both in the band and the disdain Elvin showed toward Rashied...Elvin's kit was at the front, and Rashied's toward the back.

It takes all kinds, but the one Trane record I never liked was the duet with Rashied. I liked to hear Trane with Alice meandering background. I love the Newport 66 broadcast.

[7/4]

Trane;s influence went beyond Jazz, like Ornette's...not just Santana, or the Byrds before that, but Terry Riley, The Godfather of Minimalism told me he used to go night after night to Jazz Workshop in SF to hear Trane...

Sometimes it goes to the strangest places. Steve Reich told me he used to go to Birdland as a kid, Bud, Monk et al...but more importantly he told me and has said in interviews, that he came up with his 'phase' patterns by trying to imitate Kenny Clarke's cymbal sound.

La Monte Young and Phillip Glass both also claim Coltrane as an influence.