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Posts tagged ‘Alice Coltrane’

Alice’s adventures on the astral plane

As one of those who didn’t pay enough attention to Alice Coltrane during the days when she was making what is now acclaimed as a series of classic albums, I welcome Andy Beta’s Cosmic Music. The first full-length biography of the pianist, harpist and composer, subtitled “The Life, Art and Transcendence of Alice Coltrane”, will no doubt help to ensure that she is remembered and properly valued in all her dimensions.

Born Alice McLeod in Detroit in 1937, she studied classical piano and orchestral percussion before becoming a member of the vibraphonist Terry Gibbs’s combo. In Paris in 1960, where she arrived with her first husband, the singer Kenny Hagood, she heard John Coltrane playing with Miles Davis, befriended Bud Powell, and was filmed for French TV at the Blue Note club in a group with the tenorist Lucky Thompson and the drummer Kenny Clarke. Watching the clips from that show, in which she plays a gorgeous “Lover Man” and a hectic “Strike Up the Band”, you can hear her using gospel figures alongside bebop runs but also injecting the blend with an unusual kind of fluidity, a quality that she took into her second husband’s band in 1965 and thence into her own recordings, particularly in her work on organ and concert harp.

Andy Beta relies heavily on Shankari Adams’s Portrait of Devotion and Franya Berkman’s Monument Eternal,.both written after Alice Coltrane’s death in 2007, in which the authors which analyse the spiritual life of the woman who became known as Swamini Turiyasangitananda. But he also has material of his own gleaned from conversations with such musical associates and friends as Terry Gibbs, the saxophonist Bennie Maupin, the pianist Kirk Lightsey, the trombonist George Bohanon, the bassist Vishnu Wood and Alice’s nephew, the record producer, DJ and rapper Steven Ellison. better known as Flying Lotus, as well as with acolytes from her later years as a spiritual leader.

To get the most from the book, readers may need to come to terms with their feelings about its subject’s religious beliefs. The author clearly buys into the world of swamis and ashrams. He has no problem with reporting the vision of Jesus Christ that appeared to her in the Nile Valley, the occasional bit of astral travelling, a visit from the long-dead Igor Stravinsky, or instructions regularly received from above: “At some point in her meditations for that year, Turiya Coltrane as told directly by the Supreme Lord that she would move to California and establish a Vedantic Center.” Without raising an eyebrow, Beta tells us how, towards the end of her life, her touch could heal those suffering from “an array of maladies: back pain, leg injuries, torn knee cartilage, infertility, multiple sclerosis, coccidoidal meningitis, abnormal growths, injured wrists, scoliosis, and class III ovarian cancer.”

You can pour scorn on this, or you can accept it on its own terms. I choose to accept it as part of the story of an exceptional woman who used the years of her widowhood to give shelter and comfort to others (including Nina Simone), and whose music resonates more widely and profoundly as the years pass. Whatever their spiritual source, the volcanic duet with Rashied Ali’s drums on “The Battle of Armageddon” (from Universal Consciousness, Impulse, 1971) or the rapturous sweep of her setting for strings of “Galaxy in Satchidananda” (World Galaxy, Impulse, 1972) are unlikely ever to lose their power. And the posthumously released vocal music heard on The Ecstatic Music of Alice Coltrane (Luaka Bop, 2017) and Kirtan: Turiya Sings (Impulse, 2021) possesses a beauty of its own.

Cosmic Music is a life story, not a musicological analysis. As such, and despite Beta’s fondness for such verbs as “ideate” and “concertize”, it does its job well. Talking about Infinity, the John Coltrane album released five years after the saxophonist’s death, he also tackles the thorny issue of Alice’s decision to overdub a string section, harp and other instruments on to her late husband’s original tracks. “It is the lone album,” he writes, “to offer a tantalising glimpse of what a truly equal John and Alice Coltrane album might have sounded like.”

Again, there will be those who dismiss such a claim. But, all these years later, listening again to the music Alice recorded under her own name, and particularly the pieces featuring strings, can help us to understand why her husband welcomed her into his band: her music contains elements of non-western ritual, just as his came to do in his last couple of years. This displeased many of those who admired the technical rigour of the music made in the period between Giant Steps and A Love Supreme but who could not stomach the apparent leap into the unknown that began with Ascension and was truncated by his death. Inviting other musicians to share the stage on a permanent, temporary or ad hoc basis, as he did in those last years, was a symbol of his desire to expand his universe. For him, the music had become something greater than itself. For Alice, too. Her story is certainly worth reading.

* Andy Beta’s Cosmic Music is published by White Rabbit Books on March 19. The photograph of Alice Coltrane in India is from The Ecstatic Music of Alice Coltrane and was taken by Radha Botofasina.

Blissful company

QuintessenceWhat’s so funny about peace, love and understanding? The fiftieth anniversary of the Summer of Love might be a good time to reconsider Nick Lowe’s rhetorical demand. In these harshly polarised times, we might look back with wonder on a brief era when a young generation commanded the world’s headlines with a philosophy that was essentially generous, outward-looking and benevolent.

Quintessence were purveyors of Indian sounds and philosophies to the heads of Ladbroke Grove between 1969 and 1971. A lot of their material, some of it previously unreleased, has been unearthed in recent years on several albums compiled for the Hux label by the author and researcher Colin Harper, including a terrific live recording of their memorable 1970 concert at St Pancras Town Hall, released in 2009 as Cosmic Energy. Now their first three studio albums, recorded for Island, are compiled on Move into the Light, a two-CD set on Cherry Red’s Esoteric imprint.

Naturally, being an underground band, they were featured in IT and ZigZag, but they had their fans in the straight music press, too. I wrote favourably about them in the Melody Maker at the time, as did my friend Rob Partridge in Record Mirror. I remember their flautist and leader, Raja Ram (born Ron Rothfield in Australia), telling me that he’d studied in New York with the great jazz pianist Lennie Tristano: “A dollar a minute, but believe me it was worth it.” Their singer, Shiva, another Australian, had been a star back home leading a blues-rock band under his birth name, Phil Jones. The excellent drummer, Jake Milton, was Canadian. Alan Mostert, the lead guitarist, was from Mauritius. The bass guitarist, Shambhu (Richard Vaughan), was American. Their rhythm guitarist, Maha Dev (Dave Codling), was British. The band’s manager, the somewhat intense Stanley Barr, was a poet.

They became regulars at places like the Roundhouse, Friars in Aylesbury, the Temple (formerly the Flamingo) in Soho and elsewhere before graduating to bigger venues around the country, including the Albert Hall, which they filled in December 1971. A disagreement over a deal to release their album in the United States provoked a rupture with Island, but they were already starting to disintegrate by the time they moved on to RCA, with whom they released their fourth and fifth albums in 1972.

The beatific preachiness of their lyrics would draw the odd chuckle today, and there’s a certain amount of 1970-style clumpiness in the rhythms, but much of the music on the three albums making up Move into the Light (In Blissful Company, Quintessence and Dive Deep, all produced by John Barham), still sounds pretty good. Taking their cue from the Grateful Dead and Quicksilver Messenger Service, they mixed songs and extended jams as effectively as any band in Britain at the time, with confident flute and guitar solos.

But how things have changed in the part of London they once called home. “We’re getting it straight on Notting Hill Gate / We all sit around and meditate,” Shiva sings on a track from the first album. The hedge fund managers and investment bankers who nowadays populate the once shabby and affordable streets of London W11 might have their own variant on that refrain: “We’re getting it straight on Notting Hill Gate / We sit around and rig the LIBOR rate…”

Alice Coltrane

There’s more peace, love and understanding on The Ecstatic Music of Alice Coltrane, the first volume in a series on the Luaka Bop label titled “World Spirituality Classics”. This is music made by John Coltrane’s widow for semi-private circulation after ending her recording career with commercial labels and taking herself off to become the spiritual director of an ashram in Malibu, California, where she was known as Turiyasangitananda.

Between 1982 and 1995 she made four cassettes available to initiates: Turiya Sings, Divine Songs, Infinite Chants and Glorious Chants. The Luaka Bop CD is a compilation drawn from those recordings (the vinyl edition, a double album, has two extra tracks), featuring individual and choral chants, based on drones created by various keyboards — harmonium, organ, synthesiser — and harp, strings, sitars and tamburas, sometimes accompanied by hand percussion. The result achieves a quietly glowing blend of South Indian timbres and tonalities and African American spirituals.

The opening track, “Om Rama”, gets straight under your skin, synths whooshing and skirling around an infectious group chant that changes gear and develops a gospel-music edge, featuring an impassioned male lead singer who reminds me a little of Philippé Wynne. There’s some poised solo singing — by Alice Coltrane herself, I’d guess — on “Rama Rama”, and “Er Ra” is a short piece for her solo harp, almost koto-like in its delicacy, and voice. A 10-minute version of “Journey in Satchidananda” (which had been the title track of one of her Impulse albums in 1970) is almost as stately and uplifting as one of her late husband’s musical prayers. She died in 2007, aged 69, having outlived John by 40 years. But when you listen to this music it’s easy to convince yourself that neither of them is really gone.