Clifford Thornton - 1969 - Freedom & Unity

Clifford Thornton

1969

Freedom & Unity

01. Free Huey

02. 15th Floor

03. Miss Oula

04. Kevin (The Theme)

05. Exosphere

06. Uhuru

07. O.C.T.

08. The Wake

Alto Saxophone – Sonny King

Bass – Don Moore, Jimmy Garrison (tracks: B3), Tyrone Crabb (tracks: A1, B4)

Cornet – Edward Avent (tracks: A1, B4)

Drums – Harold (Nunding) Avent

Trumpet – Joe McPhee (tracks: B3)

Valve Trombone – Clifford Thornton

Vibraphone – Karl Berger

Sound City Studios Recorded July 22, 1967

The Trombone Tornado Who Blew Open Free Jazz's Back Door

Ah, Clifford Thornton—picture a Philadelphia kid in the 1930s, probably sneaking peeks at his dad's jazz records while dreaming of valves and slides that could summon spirits from the ether. Born on September 6, 1936 (or thereabouts, because who needs exact dates when you're composing chaos?), Thornton wasn't just a trombonist; he was a one-man revolution with a valve trombone that sounded like it was arguing with God over the bill at the cosmic diner. Studied under Donald Byrd in '57, gigged with young guns like Ray Draper, then got shipped off to the U.S. Army bands in the late '50s—because nothing says "free jazz" like Uncle Sam telling you how to toot your horn. Post-discharge, he stormed New York City, rubbing elbows with the avant-garde elite: Marzette Watts, Sun Ra, Sunny Murray. By the '60s, Thornton had ditched sideman servitude for composition, forming ensembles that treated sheet music like a polite suggestion. He self-produced LPs on shoestring budgets, but the Man (record labels, mostly) wasn't buying—too "sophisticatedly wild," they said. Exiled to Europe in the '70s after a UNESCO gig in Geneva counseling on African-American education, he kept composing until his trombone fell silent on November 25, 1989. Criminally overlooked? Sure, but in 2025, with vinyl hunts on Mercari and Spotify streams spiking, Thornton's ghost is finally getting the last laugh: "Told you my slides were sharper than your marketing plan."

The New Art Ensemble: Where Free Jazz Met a Group Therapy Session Gone Wild

Enter the Clifford Thornton New Art Ensemble, that ragtag collective of sonic anarchists who made "rehearsal" sound like a polite euphemism for "organized bedlam." Formed in the mid-'60s amid New York's free jazz fever dream—think lofts smelling of reefer and revolution— this outfit was Thornton's canvas for blending bebop swing with Ornette Coleman's harmolodics and a dash of Mingus-sized attitude. No pianos here; just horns honking like impatient taxis, vibes twinkling like mischievous fireflies, and rhythms that could make a metronome quit in protest. Core crew? Alto sax tornado Sonny King (a bebop-to-freedom bridge who deserved his own biopic), vibraphone wizard Karl Berger (later Don Cherry's go-to shimmer), bassist Don Moore (steady as a heartbeat in a hurricane), and drummer Harold "Nunding" Avent—whose sticks drove the pulse but, plot twist, moonlighted as an FBI informant infiltrating the Black Panthers (talk about a backbeat with baggage). Guests like Joe McPhee (trumpet debutante, future free-jazz legend) and Jimmy Garrison (Coltrane's anchor on bass) popped in like VIPs at a speakeasy. The Ensemble wasn't just a band; it was a manifesto on wheels, touring Europe in '69, jamming with Zappa and Pink Floyd at festivals that screamed "Woodstock, but make it bebop." In an era when free jazz was accused of being "anti-music," these cats proved it was pro-everything: unity in the frenzy, freedom with a funky grin. If the Art Ensemble of Chicago was the polished poets, Thornton's crew was the street poets—raw, roaring, and occasionally rumbling with the feds.

Freedom & Unity (1969): A Trombone Tantrum the Day After Trane's Funeral—Review

Drop the needle on Freedom & Unity (Third World Records, 1969; recorded July 22, 1967, at Sound City Studios—yes, the day after John Coltrane's funeral, because grief is the ultimate muse), and you're not listening to an album; you're tumbling into a velvet-gloved riot. This debut LP—Thornton's valve trombone leading the New Art Ensemble charge—clocks in at a breezy 40-ish minutes of tracks like "Free Huey" (a nod to the Panther boss, all righteous rumble), "15th Floor" (Sonny King's urban wail, like a sax stuck in elevator limbo), and "Exosphere" (Thornton's cosmic closer, where vibes and bass orbit like tipsy satellites). No piano means pure frontline fury: Thornton's trombone slides in like a sly pickpocket, King's alto yelps bebop-tinged freedom cries, McPhee's trumpet (on select cuts) adds that raw debut spark, and Berger's vibes? They're the secret sauce, proving free principles work on anything with mallets. Garrison and Moore anchor the low end with Trane-level gravitas, while Avent's drums skitter like they're dodging COINTELPRO shadows.

Critics? AllMusic's Rob Ferrier calls it a "sharp break with the past—nah, just jazz evolving its wardrobe," praising how Thornton flips Ayler/Shepp's folk-holler roots for "sophisticates' playground" sophistication. The Penguin Guide smirks: "While Ayler restored primitive bonds, Thornton built baroque jazz cathedrals—highly sophisticated, ideas flying like confetti at a paradigm party." All About Jazz's Mark Corroto dubs it "Ornette's piano-less progeny," with Thornton's bone as the "payday"—raw emotion wrapped in rehearsal rigor (he jammed across from Coleman's trio, after all). Rate Your Music fans rave: "Mingus energy meets Coltrane swing, lost gem that slaps harder than a '60s rent strike." Dusty Groove? "Obscure? Yes. Great? Darn tootin'—open-ended free with funky bones." Flaws? The production's lo-fi (self-funded indie vibes), and that FBI drummer adds a thriller subplot no one asked for. But in 2025? It's a 4.5/5 banger: urgent as a protest march, playful as a loft jam, and proof free jazz could groove without selling its soul. Archie Shepp's liner notes? "Unity in the fracture—now that's freedom."

The Legacy of Freedom & Unity in 2025: From Dusty Bins to TikTok Trombone Challenges

Fast-forward to December 2025, and Freedom & Unity isn't just legacy—it's a vinyl phoenix, rising from '60s obscurity to collector catnip (originals fetching $180 on Gripsweat auctions, because hipsters love a good "lost classic"). Reissued on CD in 2001 (Atavistic Worldwide, with bonus takes), it's now a Spotify staple, racking streams from jazz nerds to Gen Z crate-diggers syncing "Uhuru" to unity-march edits. Boomkat hails it as "free jazz's best-kept secret," crediting Thornton's sideman glow-up with Sun Ra for the Ensemble's staying power. X (formerly Twitter) buzz? Japanese fans hawking Mercari originals ("Sōsōreru nā—irresistible free jazz!"), Spanish poets quoting it as "un mundo en los oídos" (a world in the ears), and Tokyo shops restocking alongside Astrud Gilberto ("New arrivals: unity in the chaos"). Legacy? It birthed McPhee's career (his trumpet debut—boom, legend status), influenced '70s loft scenes, and whispers in modern free-improv acts like Irreversible Mechanisms or even Kamasi Washington's epic sprawls. In a post-2020 world craving "unity" amid fractures, its title track feels prophetic: Black Panther shoutouts ("Free Huey") echo BLM playlists, while the sophistication skewers "primitive" jazz stereotypes. Sure, Thornton's obscurity stings—racism, indie woes, FBI foils—but 2025's vibe shift (vinyl boom, decolonizing jazz canons) has it trending. As one X post quips, "Thornton: the trombonist who unified freedom with a wink—before algorithms caught up." If jazz is democracy in sound, Freedom & Unity is the ballot box: stuffed with wild ideas, still voting loud. Play it loud, laugh at the chaos, and tip your hat to the overlooked maestro who proved free ain't free unless it's fabulous.