Music Inc. - 1971 - Music Inc.

Music Inc.

1971

Music Inc.

01. Ruthie's Heart             06:14

02. Brilliant Circles         04:50

03. Abscretions         06:57

04. Household of Saud         06:39

05. On the Nile             09:46

06. Departure                 05:01

07. Dave's Chant (Bonus Track)             03:37

Charles Tolliver: Trumpet

Stanley Cowell: Piano

Cecil McBee: Bass

Jimmy Hopps: Drums

Bobby Brown: Flute

Wilbur Brown: Tenor Saxophone, Flute

Jimmy Heath: Tenor Saxophone, Flute

Clifford Jordan: Tenor Saxophone, Flute

Howard Johnson: Baritone Saxophone, Tuba

Lorenzo Greenwich: Trumpet

Virgil Jones: Trumpet

Danny Moore: Trumpet

Richard Williams: Trumpet

Garnett Brown: Trombone

Curtis Fuller: Trombone

John Gordon: Trombone

Dick Griffin: Trombone

Producers: Charles Tolliver, George Klabin

Recorded November 11, 1970 in NYC

Strata-East: The Jazz Label That Told the Suits to Take a Hike (And Made Beautiful Music Doing It)

In the early 1970s, when major record labels were treating jazz musicians like yesterday's newspapers—crumbling, underpaid, and often tossed aside—two sharp-dressed rebels decided enough was enough. Trumpeter Charles Tolliver and pianist Stanley Cowell, fresh off sideman gigs with legends like Max Roach and Jackie McLean, looked at the industry and thought, "Why not just do it ourselves?" Thus, in 1971, Strata-East Records was born in a Brooklyn apartment, with a logo that Tolliver reportedly doodled himself (a simple disc with "Strata-East" scrawled underneath—talk about DIY chic).

The name? A nod to Detroit's Strata collective, but with an East Coast twist. Tolliver and Cowell weren't trying to start a revolution at first; they just wanted to release their band Music Inc.'s album without some A&R guy telling them to add more "commercial" flute solos. But word spread fast in the tight-knit jazz world, and soon saxophonist Clifford Jordan showed up with a stack of tapes he'd produced (including gems that majors had shelved). Suddenly, Strata-East wasn't just a vanity project—it was a lifeline.

The Founders: Two Visionaries Who Preferred Notes Over Contracts

Charles Tolliver, the trumpet firebrand with a tone that could melt steel (or wake up a sleepy audience), and Stanley Cowell, the piano wizard who could swing from bebop fury to ethereal mbira vibes, met in 1967 and clicked instantly. By 1969, they'd formed Music Inc., a co-led quartet that toured Europe and recorded leaders dates. But back home, the jazz market was tanking—fusion was rising, rock was roaring, and pure acoustic jazz? It was getting about as much love as a tax audit.

Frustrated with paltry advances and zero creative control, they launched Strata-East with their debut album Music Inc.. The model was radical for the time (and, let's be honest, still pretty radical today): Artists funded their own recordings, kept ownership of masters and publishing, handled promotion, and gave the label just 15% for manufacturing and distribution. Musicians got 85% of sales—compare that to the 5-20% (often zero after "recoupable" advances) from big labels. It was Black empowerment in vinyl form, born from the civil rights era's spirit of self-determination.

Cowell, who sadly passed in 2020, was the thoughtful innovator—blending African rhythms, electric keys, and classical touches. Tolliver, still going strong, kept the flame alive, calling Strata-East a "monument" to his partner. Together, they released over 50 albums in the '70s, turning a shoestring operation into a beacon.

Why It Mattered Then: Freedom in a Time of Chains

The 1970s were tough for jazz. Majors like Impulse! and Blue Note were scaling back or selling out. But Strata-East said, "Fine, we'll do it better." It became the home for spiritual jazz, post-bop fire, and Afrocentric grooves—music that pulsed with Black consciousness without compromising an ounce of artistry.

Key releases? Oh, where to start:

Cecil McBee's Mutima (1974): Bass-led mysticism that feels like a journey up the Nile.

Billy Harper's Capra Black: Intense, gospel-infused tenor sax blowouts.

Clifford Jordan's Glass Bead Games: A double-LP masterpiece of modal exploration.

Pharoah Sanders' Izipho Zam (recorded '69, released '73): Shelved by Impulse!, rescued by Strata-East—pure cosmic bliss with Leon Thomas yodeling to the heavens.

And the big "hit": Gil Scott-Heron and Brian Jackson's Winter in America (1974), with the funky anthem "The Bottle." It sold hundreds of thousands, hit Billboard charts, and kept the lights on—though, true to form, most profits went to the artists. (Imagine running a label where your bestseller doesn't make you rich. Tolliver and Cowell: saints or masochists

In an era of struggle, Strata-East was empowerment incarnate. As Tolliver put it, it flipped the script on exploitation. No wonder originals now fetch hundreds (or thousands) from collectors—rarity meets reverence.

Still Schooling the Industry (With a Wink)

Fast-forward to 2025: Strata-East is back, baby. A partnership with Mack Avenue has unleashed reissues—vinyl cut all-analog, digital streams finally flowing, anthologies dropping. Over 30 titles digitized, concerts celebrating the catalog, and young guns like Kamasi Washington, Shabaka Hutchings, and Isaiah Collier citing its influence. Spiritual jazz is hotter than ever, and Strata-East is the godfather.

Tolliver chuckles about the "spiritual jazz" tag—he's cool with it, but the music was just... jazz. Free, fierce, and artist-owned. In today's streaming world, where algorithms rule and payouts stink, Strata-East's model feels prophetic. Indie labels and DIY artists owe it a debt—proof you don't need corporate overlords to make timeless art.

And the humor? Well, picture this: Two broke musicians start a label to release one album, accidentally birth a movement, drop a quasi-hit with a song about booze ("The Bottle"—ironic for "spiritual" jazz?), and end up richer in legacy than royalties. If that's not the ultimate jazz riff—improvising your way to immortality—then what is?

Strata-East didn't just survive the '70s; it outsmarted them. And today, it's still blowing the trumpet for freedom. Grab a reissue, crank it up, and toast to Tolliver, Cowell, and the rebels who said, "Our music, our rules." Cheers—or as they'd probably say, "Play on."1.5sIndepth review of Music Inc album from 1970 Music IncMusic Inc. (1971): Charles Tolliver's Big Band Blast-Off – A Deep Dive into Strata-East's Debut Firecracker

Let's clear up the timeline first: The album we're talking about—Music Inc. by Charles Tolliver's Music Inc. Big Band—was recorded on November 11, 1970, but released in 1971 as the very first LP on the fledgling Strata-East label (catalog SES-1971). It's often casually referred to as a "1970 album" because of the recording date, but hey, in jazz years, that's close enough to count as twins. This isn't the raw quartet live at Slugs' (that's a separate beast from May 1970); this is Tolliver and co-founder Stanley Cowell saying, "Let's throw a big band party to launch our indie empire!" And what a party it was.

A Quartet Dreams Big (With a Little Help From Friends)

At the core is the killer quartet: Charles Tolliver on trumpet (blazing, lyrical, and fearless), Stanley Cowell on piano (elegant yet punchy, blending hard bop with modal adventures), Cecil McBee on bass (deep, propulsive grooves), and Jimmy Hopps on drums (swinging like he's got places to be). But for this session, they supersized it with a 13-piece supporting orchestra—think four extra trumpets, four trombones (including Curtis Fuller!), four reeds/flutes (Jimmy Heath, Clifford Jordan!), and Howard Johnson's tuba/baritone for that low-end rumble.

All compositions and arrangements are by Tolliver or Cowell. Recorded in one day in NYC, produced by Tolliver and George Klabin. It's post-bop meets progressive big band: structured yet freewheeling, hard-swinging with spiritual undertones, but no fusion fluff or rock pandering. In 1970, when jazz was supposedly "dying" commercially, this was a bold middle finger to the majors.

Ruthie's Heart (Tolliver, 6:12) – Kicks off with a rollicking head that feels like a joyous sprint. Tolliver's trumpet solo is liquid fire—high notes screaming, phrases twisting like a cat on a hot tin roof. The big band accents punch in perfectly. Cowell's piano comps with bluesy bite. Humor note: If this doesn't make you tap your foot, check your pulse—you might be listening to elevator music by mistake.

Brilliant Circles (Cowell, 4:48) – A lush, contrapuntal beauty. McBee's bass glissandos ease you in, then the winds weave a web of morphing motifs around Tolliver's soaring lines. Dick Griffin's trombone and Howard Johnson's baritone add rich colors. It's like a sunset painted in sound—meditative, almost spiritual. AllMusic calls it a "study in lush counterpoint." Perfect for when you want big band sophistication without the bombast.

Abscretions (Cowell, 6:58) – Abstract yet swinging. Cowell's tune lets the quartet stretch while the horns provide edgy accents. McBee and Hopps lock in telepathically, pushing the energy. Tolliver's solo here is inventive, dancing on the edge of avant-garde without tipping over.

Household of Saud (Tolliver, 6:38) – Political edge in the title (nod to oil empires?), but musically it's driving hard bop with fiery ensemble work. The horns roar like a protest march turned dance party.

On the Nile (Tolliver, 9:48) – The epic centerpiece. Majestic, modal, Afrocentric vibes with dramatic builds. Tolliver's trumpet evokes ancient rivers flowing through modern chaos. The big band swells are breathtaking—dramatic and majestic, as one reviewer put it. This track alone justifies the album's cult status. (Fun fact: A live quartet version appears on the Slugs' albums, but here it's orchestral grandeur.)

Departure (Tolliver, 5:00) – Closes with urgency and lift-off energy. Fast-paced, with Tolliver driving the band to a soaring finish. Feels like blasting off from Earth's troubles—fitting for an album about artistic independence.

Why It's a Masterpiece: Critical Acclaim and That Special Sauce

AllMusic's Jason Ankeny gives it 4½ stars, calling the big band "the apotheosis of Tolliver's singular creative vision." Reviewers praise the telepathic interplay, lush arrangements, and how it bridges hard bop with progressive edges. It's underappreciated (Reddit calls it "one of the most underappreciated jazz albums of all time"), yet influential—echoes in modern big bands and spiritual jazz revivals.

Humorously, imagine assembling this all-star orchestra for one session: Tolliver and Cowell probably promised pizza and artistic freedom. But seriously, it's a testament to their leadership—the supporting players shine without stealing the show, and the quartet solos burn brightest.

In the context of 1970-71: Jazz was fracturing (fusion rising, acoustic struggling), but this album screams confidence. As Strata-East's debut, it set the tone: Artist-owned, uncompromising, soulful.

Legacy Today (2025 Edition)

With Mack Avenue's partnership, this gem is remastered, streaming, and on pristine vinyl—finally easy to hear without mortgaging your house for an original. Young artists cite it; it's prophetic for indie jazz in the streaming age. If you love Woody Shaw, Freddie Hubbard big bands, or Kamasi Washington's epics, this is required listening.

Verdict: Essential. 9.5/10. It's not just an album—it's a declaration: "We got this." Tolliver's trumpet still soars, Cowell's keys sparkle, and the big band roars like it was recorded yesterday. Grab the reissue, crank "On the Nile," and let it wash over you. Just don't blame me if you start your own label afterward. Play on!