Abdullah Sami - 1977 - Peace Of Time

Abdullah Sami

1977

Peace Of Time

01. Afrikan Samba 16:27

02. Song For My Friends 5:22

03. Aretia 18:27

04. Peace Of Time 1:18

Alto Saxophone, Percussion – Abdullah Sami

Bass – Hogan Jiggetts

Drums – Wade Barnes

Guitar – Germahn Nazario

Recorded 8/21/77 N.Y.C.

There were different front colour designs of this LP

Abdullah Sami’s Peace of Time, a spiritual jazz artifact from 1978, is the kind of album that makes collectors weak at the knees and bank accounts tremble. Recorded in New York in August 1977 and self-released in a meager run of 300 hand-crafted copies, it’s no wonder this record has achieved “holy grail” status among jazz enthusiasts, with original pressings fetching upwards of $2,000 online. Spiritmuse Records’ 2019 reissue mercifully brought this obscurity back to life, complete with remastered sound and liner notes that unpack its legend. But is Peace of Time truly the transcendent masterpiece its cult status suggests, or is it just another overhyped relic from the vinyl-digging frenzy of the 2010s? Let’s dive into this hypnotic, groove-laden journey, explore the musicians behind it, and dissect each track with the precision of a crate-digger combing through a dusty record store.

Abdullah “Mudon” Sami, an alto saxophonist and percussionist, is the enigmatic figure at the heart of Peace of Time. Born in Chicago, Sami was steeped in the city’s rich musical tapestry, a melting pot of urban blues (think Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf), soul (Curtis Mayfield, Donny Hathaway), and the avant-garde experiments of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM). His father, William Frank Slaughter, an accomplished saxophonist and composer of the album’s opening track, “Afrikan Samba,” was a pivotal influence, schooling young Sami in music theory and fostering a creative approach that would define his multi-directional saxophone style—fluid, hypnotic, and teasingly free. Sami cut his teeth in Chicago’s underground jazz and art loft scene, performing alongside percussionist Yaounde Olu and bassist Imhotep Askia Ba at venues like Osun Gallery, the Institute of Positive Education, and Aziza Artist Space. His move to New York in the late 1970s, chasing the loft jazz scene’s promise of exposure, led to the creation of Peace of Time. Yet, the unforgiving New York scene didn’t catapult him to fame, and after the album’s release, Sami returned to Chicago, eventually stepping away from music to work as a painter/decorator. Unbeknownst to him, his lone album became a mythic treasure, its scarcity and hand-made covers (reminiscent of Sun Ra’s DIY aesthetic) fueling its legend until Spiritmuse tracked him down for the reissue.

Sami didn’t create Peace of Time alone. Backing him is a quartet of lesser-known but highly capable musicians who bring depth and groove to the album’s spiritual jazz ethos:

Hogan Jiggetts (Bass): Little is documented about Jiggetts, but his basslines on Peace of Time are the album’s heartbeat, providing a steady, grounding pulse that anchors Sami’s freewheeling sax. Think of him as the unsung hero who keeps the ship from drifting too far into the cosmic void.

Germahn Nazario (Guitar): Nazario’s guitar work is subtle yet essential, weaving textures that range from shimmering chords to delicate melodic lines. His presence adds a jazz-fusion edge, hinting at influences from the likes of Grant Green or early Pat Metheny, though his name remains a footnote in jazz history.

Wade Barnes (Drums): Barnes lays down a rock-solid foundation, blending propulsive rhythms with a loose, improvisational feel. His drumming is the glue that holds the album’s longer tracks together, giving Sami and company room to stretch out without losing cohesion.

Abdullah Sami (Alto Saxophone, Percussion): Sami himself is the star, his alto sax soaring through modal explorations and freeform flights. His percussion work adds an extra layer of texture, particularly on tracks like “Afrikan Samba,” where polyrhythms evoke a global, almost ritualistic vibe.

Together, this quartet delivers a sound that’s both otherworldly and rooted, a testament to the late-’70s underground jazz scene’s experimental spirit.

Peace of Time comprises four tracks, clocking in at roughly 40 minutes. The album balances extended, meditative jams with shorter, reflective pieces, all steeped in the spiritual jazz tradition but with a distinct personality.

1. Afrikan Samba (16:34)

The album opens with “Afrikan Samba,” a sprawling, groove-heavy epic composed by Sami’s father, William Frank Slaughter. This track is the album’s centerpiece, a hypnotic journey that feels like a love letter to both African rhythms and Coltrane-esque spiritual exploration. Sami’s alto sax dances over a pulsating bassline from Jiggetts, while Barnes’ drums and Sami’s own percussion weave a polyrhythmic tapestry that’s equal parts infectious and trance-inducing. Nazario’s guitar adds subtle, shimmering chords, giving the track a fusion-tinged edge. The composition’s length might test the patience of casual listeners—16 minutes is a bold ask in a world of three-minute pop songs—but for those willing to surrender, it’s a mesmerizing ride. Sami’s sax work here is fluid, shifting between melodic motifs and freeform squalls, teasing the listener with moments of harmony before diving back into modal chaos. It’s as if he’s saying, “I could resolve this phrase, but where’s the fun in that?” The track’s energy is relentless yet never overbearing, making it a perfect encapsulation of the album’s spiritual jazz ethos.

2. Song for My Friends (5:26)

Following the marathon of “Afrikan Samba,” “Song for My Friends” feels like a breather, clocking in at a comparatively concise five-and-a-half minutes. This track is a heartfelt nod to camaraderie, with Sami’s sax taking on a warmer, more lyrical tone. The melody is tender, almost nostalgic, as if Sami’s reminiscing about late-night jam sessions in Chicago’s lofts. Jiggetts’ bass provides a soulful foundation, while Nazario’s guitar sprinkles delicate, almost pastoral flourishes. Barnes keeps the rhythm understated, letting the melody shine. It’s a track that invites you to close your eyes and sway, though don’t expect it to change your life—it’s lovely, but it’s not reinventing the wheel. Think of it as the musical equivalent of a warm hug from an old friend, pleasant but not profound.

3. Aretia (18:39)

If “Afrikan Samba” is the album’s heart, “Aretia” is its soul. This nearly 19-minute opus is a masterclass in controlled chaos, with Sami’s alto sax soaring to dizzying heights. The track opens with a slow, meditative groove, Jiggetts and Barnes laying down a hypnotic rhythm that feels like it could go on forever (and at 18 minutes, it nearly does). Nazario’s guitar weaves in and out, adding layers of texture that shift from ethereal to gritty. Sami’s playing here is his most adventurous, darting between modal explorations and frenetic bursts of free jazz. It’s as if he’s channeling the spirits of Pharoah Sanders and Albert Ayler, but with a restraint that keeps things from spiraling into cacophony. The track’s length and intensity might intimidate some listeners—yes, it’s another marathon—but its ability to hold you in a trance-like state is undeniable. For those who find transcendence in repetition and improvisation, “Aretia” is pure bliss. For others, it’s a test of endurance, like sitting through a particularly long avant-garde film with no popcorn.

4. Peace of Time (1:20)

The title track closes the album with a brief, almost anticlimactic coda. At just over a minute, it feels like an afterthought, a gentle wave goodbye after the marathon of “Aretia.” Sami’s sax delivers a short, reflective melody over minimal accompaniment, as if the band is packing up their instruments and heading home. It’s a curious choice to end on such a short note, almost like Sami ran out of tape or decided he’d said all he needed to say. While it doesn’t detract from the album, it’s hard not to wish for a more substantial finale. Perhaps Sami was winking at us, saying, “You’ve been through enough; here’s a quick breather before you flip the record over and start again.”

Peace of Time is a fascinating artifact of its era, embodying the DIY ethos and spiritual fervor of the late-’70s underground jazz scene. Its strengths lie in its hypnotic grooves, Sami’s distinctive saxophone voice, and the quartet’s ability to balance structure with freedom. The album’s longer tracks, “Afrikan Samba” and “Aretia,” are its most compelling, offering immersive journeys that reward patient listening. Sami’s multi-directional approach—shifting between melody, modality, and freeform exploration—sets him apart from his peers, though his restraint keeps the album accessible compared to the more abrasive free jazz of the time.

However, the album isn’t without flaws. The sound quality, while improved in the 2019 reissue, still bears the limitations of its low-budget origins (the original master tapes were lost, after all). Some listeners might find the extended track lengths indulgent, and the short closer feels like a missed opportunity for a grander statement. Additionally, while Sami’s collaborators are competent, they don’t always match his intensity, occasionally fading into the background when a bolder presence might have elevated the music further.

The album’s mythical status is as much about its scarcity as its content. With only 300 original copies, each with unique, hand-made covers, it’s the kind of record that fuels vinyl collectors’ fever dreams. But strip away the hype, and Peace of Time still holds up as a vibrant, soulful work of spiritual jazz. It’s not quite on the level of, say, Alice Coltrane’s Journey in Satchidananda or Pharoah Sanders’ Karma, but it’s a worthy companion, offering a glimpse into a moment when a Chicago dreamer took a shot at immortality in New York’s unforgiving jazz scene.

Peace of Time emerged from the tail end of the loft jazz movement, a period when New York’s avant-garde musicians, priced out of traditional venues, turned lofts and warehouses into performance spaces. This DIY spirit is reflected in the album’s production, from its limited pressing to its hand-crafted covers. Sami’s Chicago roots, steeped in the AACM’s ethos of creative freedom, also shine through, blending with the New York scene’s experimental energy. The album’s spiritual jazz aesthetic—rooted in modal improvisation and global influences—places it in conversation with contemporaries like Don Cherry and Yusef Lateef, though Sami’s obscurity kept him from their level of recognition.

Abdullah Sami’s Peace of Time is a gem that lives up to much of its hype, delivering a heady mix of spiritual jazz, hypnotic grooves, and raw, unpolished energy. Its rarity and backstory add to its allure, but the music itself—particularly the expansive “Afrikan Samba” and “Aretia”—stands on its own as a testament to Sami’s vision and talent. The backing musicians, while not household names, provide a solid foundation for Sami’s soaring sax, making this a true ensemble effort. Is it the greatest spiritual jazz album ever? Probably not, but it’s a captivating listen that rewards those willing to lose themselves in its modal, meditative depths. For collectors, it’s a trophy; for listeners, it’s a journey. Just don’t expect to find an original copy unless you’ve got a spare $2,000 and a time machine.

And a big Thank You! to our Red haired Gitmo-Lebanese friend in Miami, for providing a beautiful needle drop of this album. Thank You Pechoepuelco!