Pete La Roca - 1967 - Turkish Women At The Bath

Pete La Roca

1967

Turkish Women At The Bath

01. Turkish Women At The Bath 5:14
02. Dancing Girls 5:50
03. Love Planet 5:28
04. Marjoun 3:34
05. Bliss 4:53
06. Sin Street 7:00
07. And So 1:21
08. And So 1:45

Bass – Walter Booker
Percussiony – Pete La Roca
Piano – Chick Corea
Saxophone – John Gilmore

Recorded in New York, May 25, 1967.

A "lost" classic of spiritual free jazz, Turkish Women is a charming session inspired by the decadent Ingres painting of the same name. This late 1960s session brought together the fiery, refined tenor sax of John Gilmore; the ruminative acoustic piano of (pre-fusion) Chick Corea; the heavy, hefty-duty bass of Walter Booker; and leader Pete LaRoca. LaRoca, who left music shortly after this 1967 session to devote his time to the art of law, is a contrapuntal percussionist who's even credited in The Rough Guide to Jazz as "the first person to record a totally free-tempo drum solo." It's an ensemble effort, but longtime Sun Ra sideman Gilmore delivers a rare non-Arkestra performance that demonstrates why Coltrane was so clearly influenced by Gilmore's tightly-controlled, sonic whirlwinds. --Mike McGonigal

This album has a strange history. As Joel Dorn reminds us in the liner notes, it was originally produced by Alan Douglas in 1967 with the current title. The quartet is led by drummer Pete LaRoca, and features the talents of pianist Chick Corea, bassist Walter Booker, and tenor saxophonist John Gilmore. However, the album was later sold to Muse Records, who subsequently released it with a different title, Bliss! (MR-5011), listing Chick Corea as the leader. "Pete took umbrage, sued Muse and won," Dorn writes. "Unfortunately, when Muse took it off the market as a Chick Corea record, it was never re-released as a Pete LaRoca record and consequently hasn't been available for much too long a time." This CD reissue comes over thirty years since it was recorded; the world has changed some since then, but Art is timeless.

Turkish Women at the Bath is based on the painting by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres, offering inspiration for each of LaRoca's seven compositions. The drummer, as leader, drives the rhythm and surrounds his quartet with shimmering cymbals. Walter Booker performs accompanying walking and running duties for the largely hard bop session, and offers a lyrical bass solo on "Bliss." Behind the bass solo, Corea repeats a one-measure descending motif tirelessly for over two minutes. LaRoca borrowed that pattern from a Pakistani tune; the modal harmonies throughout the session lend an authentic Middle Eastern mood. Gilmore and Corea share the solo spotlight; at the time of this recording, the tenor had only recently left Art Blakey's tutelage, and Corea had recorded his first albums as a leader: Tones For Joan's Bones and Inner Space, both on Atlantic. "Marjoun" is a Corea feature, showing the pianist's churning motion at the keyboard, while Gilmore rolls with contrasting waves of sound. This being the late sixties, the session includes some intentional reverberation with the saxophone on "Turkish Women at the Bath," and with the piano on "Marjoun." Stepping into the spotlight on "Dancing Girls," LaRoca punctuates clearly while Corea repeats the same one-measure phrase for almost three minutes. LaRoca's extended unaccompanied drum solo takes place in "Sin Street," another hard bop number laced with postmodern elements. Highly recommended.

If you're anything like me and get a thrill from finding great music and artists who have for some reason or another gone obscure or out of print, records like this are what you live for. I actually found this album re-packaged as a Chick Corea date (entitled Bliss), issued by Muse (not the original label) in the late '70s, but despite Corea's incredible performance, this is Pete LaRoca's gig all the way. Not only did he compose every piece on it, but his urgent, cymbal-slicing style (which would seem to have been a major influence to Jack DeJohnette) is its focal ingredient throughout.

The first side of the record simply cannot be improved upon, it is perfection. The title track opens the album with Corea's reverbed piano brilliantly insinuating the melody and LaRoca's cymbals loosely jutting the rhythm around Walter Booker's strong, anchoring bass line; John Gilmore completes the group's tremendous cohesiveness with a measured tenor sax interpretation of the song's foreign intrigue. "Dancing Girls" is next even more of a challenge to describe; it begins and ends with a feverish, piled-on attack of alternating chords, and in between there is an extended section of mesmerizing repetition and intensity. As Corea suddenly transforms his playing into a real-time piano loop, LaRoca intermittently bashes away on his kit (which here gets the reverb treatment as well), creating a aural soundtrack for a trippy, frenetic dance you can't help but begin to visualize through strobe lights in your mind. Gilmore doesn't contribute much here and generally shows very little indication of his Sun Ra Arkestra leanings on the session, but he must have felt right at home while this was going on, space indeed being the place.

"Love Planet", "Sin Street", and "Marjoun" feature the band continuing in peak form. Corea, whose acoustic work from this period of time was probably never equaled in the course of his long career, is an ideal compliment to LaRoca, a pairing of powerful dynamics which (while perhaps not stylistically similar) provides an effect not unlike that of McCoy Tyner and Elvin Jones; particularly in "Marjoun", one is struck by the sheer forcefulness and vitality of Corea's playing. On "Sin Street", Gilmore moves more to the forefront and LaRoca unleashes a long and furious solo. "Bliss" is an eerily atmospheric piece in which Corea again plays an odd, repeating sequence of zig-zagging notes (if ever there was a sequence ready-made for sampling, this is it) while Booker's throbbing bass contributes the bulk of accompanying improvisation. And the all-too-brief final track, "And So" - a mere fragment of funk - offers yet another glimpse of territory which this group had set out to conquer.

Turkish Dancers is an outright exceptional album, replete with inspired, original music, impassioned performances and a wide range of creative forms. That LaRoca would not record for decades after this approximates the realm of tragedy; according to a recent interview with the drummer (who now uses the surname of Sims), he didn't so much choose to "drop out" of music so much as he was "blacklisted" by record companies due to his staunch aversion to the compromises of fusion. Yet given the fact that such similarly uncommercial peers like Andrew Hill, Archie Shepp, and Sam Rivers (to name a few) were eventually able to regain their bearings and record according to their own dictates on smaller labels in the seventies and beyond, it would appear that LaRoca (who had been reduced to driving cabs to earn a living) simply threw up his arms at one point and opted out of the music industry altogether and practice law rather than hold fast to his artistic vision while in the indefinite throes of poverty. Certainly Pete LaRoca wasn't the only jazz musician driven into no-man's land by the demands created by the more commercial successes of R & B, rock, and fusion in the late 1960s (God only knows what he came to think of Corea's career choices!); while his decision to change professions in light of this is certainly understandable, however, it does make the sustained commitments of those who survived this implosion of the jazz scene with their integrity in tact all the more appreciated.

"Turkish Women At The Bath" is a wonderful rediscovery. Drummer Pete La Roca made only three albums as a leader during his heyday in the 1960's and now this long forgotten session is available once again. Although best known for his Blue Note debut "Basra" in 1965, La Roca recorded two albums for Douglas Recordings in 1967, the previously released "Bliss!" and this obscure date. This session is a fascinating slice of late-60's modally influenced jazz featuring an especially welcome solo spot from John Gilmore, who was rarely able to record outside of Sun Ra's grasp.

Hearing Gilmore free of the Arkestra is reason alone for celebration, but to combine that event with an early appearance by Chick Corea elevates the session well beyond mere historical curiosity. Gilmore is more restrained here than with his regular employer, but it is a delight to hear him elucidate with a sense of subtlety that was sometimes lost in the ecstatic throes of the Arkestra. Gilmore's resplendent tone is in full force here, like an otherworldy cousin of Paul Gonsalves, he brings an authoritatively timeless air to these pieces. Corea's cascades of precise linearity contrast nicely with Booker's rock solid bass vamping and La Roca's splashy cymbal work. "Bliss" leaves Gilmore out of the mix and highlights Corea's gorgeous descending melody.

Considering the albums' 1967 vintage, the session never sounds dated, despite the typical modal vibe, so much the rage at the time. The only real complaint is the sound of the recording. A studio recording, it still has a distant quality in regards to the placement of the drums and piano. During La Roca's solos he sounds like he is out in the wings, while Gilmore sounds front and center. This is a minor flaw however, as the band's performance more than makes up for this lack of fidelity. Considering it was La Roca's last record before deciding to take a long hiatus from music to become a lawyer before his eventual come-back, we are fortunate to have it, despite its mere half hour duration.

This album was a Pete La Roca inspired, composed and led project for DJ Alan Douglas' short lived record label, Douglas 6. The album was recorded with Pete's sometime working band of 1967 which included Walter Booker, John Gilmore and Chick Corea. Flash forward to 1973, the Douglas catalog was acquired by Muse and this session was scheduled to be reissued. Of course by now Corea was a sure seller and it is unlikely that anyone at Muse knew the history of the session, or why it was under La Roca's name so it gets re-released..... under Corea's name as Bliss, Muse 5011!....The problem with this scenario, of course, was that no one had bothered to consult La Roca who just happened to be a lawyer in his day job! Pete immediately demands that the reissue be pulled and sues to enforce his will. The record is quickly pulled and then vanishes until the 32 Jazz era when Joel Dorn has the good sense to have it released with the proper title and leader credit. The record is a lovely modal excursion that is a must for any Gilmore fan in particular.