Free Jazz (Ornette Coleman, 1961)

It will blow your mind. It will stress you out. It may do both. That's the beauty of Free Jazz! This really isn't the kind of album you put on for the heck of it, but since I am honor bound to report whatever I dial up in the morning, here it is.

On the surface of things, it seems kind of preposterous to name your album after the genre you are playing in, especially when the genre is still in its infancy. However, Ornette Coleman realized that to truly free jazz, one had to be freed from the confines of structure, abolishing even the "song" structure and even titles. Coleman also took advantage of stereo recording to create a double-quartet, meaning four guys were playing on each channel, and each channel was its own entity, meaning rather than a classic octet with a spread of instrumentation, the double-quartet features two drummers, two bassists, two brass, and two wind instruments.

Thanks to the CD format, the two parts of Free Jazz have been reunited into a complete 37-minute experience. The bonus track, nominally called "First Take", shows that it wasn't entirely a free-for-all, as it is clear the double-quartet is following the same progression of loose "movements". I think that "First Take" was tossed because the band was moving too quickly and didn't end up with an album-load of material, which was the intention of Free Jazz.

The Shape of Jazz to Come (Ornette Coleman, 1959)

Calling your album The Shape of Jazz to Come shows about as much bravado in music as Babe Ruth's called-shot home run did in sports. Coleman, a pariah in the world of bop, with this album opened the door of the free jazz/avant-garde movement, which would crest with the 1961 release of Free Jazz and pave the way for many others to follow his path. Some would borrow in parts (in increasing order, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, and Eric Dolphy) and others would go in wholesale (Albert Ayler, Cecil Taylor). Free jazz, like fusion a few years later, would challenge the structures of jazz much more aggressively that soul jazz ever did.

Since I'm still a "jazz learner", here are some notes to myself for the next time I play "Name That Tune". First, Coleman is primarily an alto player at a time where tenors tended to rule the roost. Secondly, Don Cherry is playing the cornet, part of his progression toward making the pocket trumpet his instrument of choice. The alto/cornet mix is distinctly different than your traditional tenor/trumpet pairing in bop. Another interesting thing is Coleman tendency to abhor chord instruments like piano and guitar in his music. If anything, he was more likely to pile on more horns if he needed more oomph in his leads. Finally, structure is a hallmark of this album. Although "Lonely Woman" bucks the trend somewhat (and in so doing became a veritable standard), the songs here typically begin and end with a short vigorous chorus, often at auctioneer pace, sandwiching the "free" sections of solos, usually by Coleman and Cherry (though Charlie Haden and Billy Higgins managing to contribute in places). For listeners comfortable with their music being solo-driven (prog and fusion come to mind), this doesn't seem so strange, but in 1959 the notion of submerging the chorus and putting the solos front and center was downright revolutionary.