Cha Cha Shaw - 1979 - Kingdom Come

Cha Cha Shaw

1979 

Kingdom Come

01. Melted Soul
02. Kid Zaro
03. Right On
04. Chain Re-Action
05. Mr. Zip
06. Postage Paid

Alto Saxophone – Brian Ross 
Bass – Frank Clayton, Ronnie Bykin
Congas – Betsy
Drums – Art Blakeley Jr., Toe Joe 
Flute [Bag Flute] – Charles Cha Cha Shaw
Guitar – James Greggo, Tom Lee Harris
Piano – Billy Lyles, Zeid Alleem
Tenor Saxophone – Glenn Spears
Trumpet, Flugelhorn – Charles Cha Cha Shaw


The title Kingdom Come came about as a result of Vivian and Cha-Cha thinking one night about this album. How it would fit into their lives and relate ot other people's. I thought this music would dance and talk to God and people at the same time. And I hope this title will help Cha-Cha's Image and other people as well. He would like to dedicate this album to our newborn baby. Cha-cha would like to thanks each and all the musicians for their help with these songs.

Written by Mrs. Vivian L. Shaw

Kingdom Come, Charles “Cha Cha” Shaw’s 1979 sophomore effort for Folkways Records (often dated to late ’70s sessions but carrying that quintessential 1975–76 spiritual jazz energy in spirit), is a delightfully oddball, soul-drenched slice of post-bop and free-tinged exploration that feels like it was recorded in a Harlem church basement after the Sunday service turned into an all-night cosmic jam. With its short, punchy opener giving way to extended modal workouts and quirky originals, the album is equal parts streetwise and skyward-gazing—think a slightly tipsy Sun Ra sideman who decided to lead his own modest Arkestra instead of chasing interstellar overkill. It’s warm, textural, and unpretentious, the kind of record that sneaks up on you with its funky spirituality while making you chuckle at how joyfully it refuses to fit neatly into any one box.

Born Charles Shaw in New York, Cha Cha earned his colorful nickname through his energetic, danceable approach to the trumpet and a personality that lit up any bandstand. A working-class trumpet-for-hire in the city’s bustling scene, he cut his teeth contributing to sessions with heavyweights like Curtis Mayfield, The Temptations, and even brushing shoulders with the spirit of Coltrane’s circle. By the mid-1970s, like many of his peers, Shaw was drawn to the spiritual jazz underground—seeking deeper expression beyond straight-ahead bop or commercial soul. His debut Into Morning (1976, also on Folkways) established him as a thoughtful leader blending post-bop lyricism with freer explorations. Influences pour in from Miles Davis’ modal periods, the fiery spirituality of Pharoah Sanders and Alice Coltrane, the earthy grooves of the New York loft scene, and a healthy dose of gospel and funk from his sideman days. Shaw’s voice on the horn is passionate yet approachable—never overly austere, always ready to swing or soar.

Released on the venerable Folkways Records (FTS 32870, later reissued by Smithsonian Folkways and Kindred Spirits), Kingdom Come perfectly embodied the label’s mission of documenting authentic, non-commercial American creative expression. Moe Asch’s imprint was a safe haven for eccentric jazz voices that major labels wouldn’t touch—raw, cultural, and often spiritually charged. The core ensemble is a loose, soulful collective: Shaw handles trumpet, flugelhorn, and the delightfully eccentric “bag flute” (adding quirky, breathy textures). Ronnie Boykins (famed Sun Ra bassist) anchors the low end with his deep, resonant tone, while Art Blakey Jr. (yes, the drummer’s son) brings propulsive, swinging energy to the kit alongside Toe Joe on additional percussion duties. Brian Ross contributes alto saxophone for some sharp, conversational interplay, with Frank Clayton and others filling out the bass and conga roles. It’s a small-group setup that feels communal and lived-in rather than rigidly arranged.

The album kicks off with the brief, atmospheric “Melted Soul,” a warm-up that melts into the nearly 11-minute “Kid Zaro,” a sprawling modal journey where Shaw’s flugelhorn lines dance over Boykins’ hypnotic bass ostinatos and punchy drumming. “Right On” delivers exactly what the title promises—a groovy, affirmative strut with call-and-response horns and a churchy fervor that’ll have you nodding along. “Chain Re-action” tightens things up with more boppish energy, while the extended “Mr. Zip” stretches out into freer, more abstract territory laced with psychedelic edges. Closer “Postage Paid” wraps it up on a concise, funky note. All tracks are Shaw originals, showcasing his gift for memorable heads that serve as launchpads for collective improvisation rather than mere vehicles for solos.

Technically, the music is a masterclass in controlled looseness. Shaw’s trumpet tone is bright and vocal, capable of tender lyricism on flugelhorn or more assertive, searching cries when the spirit moves. The rhythm section creates deep, infectious pockets—Boykins’ bass is a warm, woody presence that grounds the flights of fancy, while the drums and percussion add tactile, hand-drum-infused swing. There’s plenty of space and dialogue; solos feel like conversations at a family reunion rather than academic exercises. The Folkways recording captures a natural, roomy sound with good separation for the era—intimate yet alive, letting every breath, valve click, and cymbal splash breathe without artificial gloss. It’s spiritual jazz with a funky, street-level heartbeat: post-bop foundations meeting free excursions and gospel soul, all delivered with a wink and a grin rather than solemn piety. If Horace Silver had wandered into a Sun Ra rehearsal and everyone decided to keep it relatively short and groovy, something like this might emerge.

The artwork, true to Folkways form, leans into straightforward, almost homemade vibes—bold lettering, perhaps a striking photo or symbolic illustration of Shaw and the ensemble that radiates quiet pride and spiritual intent. No flashy gatefolds or psychedelic explosions here; it’s earnest, culturally rooted, and inviting in that documentary-style way that says “this is real music from real people,” perfectly suiting the album’s unpretentious charm.

Upon its quiet 1979 release, Kingdom Come didn’t exactly storm the charts or get heavy rotation on commercial radio—Folkways releases thrived in libraries, universities, and among dedicated jazz seekers rather than the masses. Contemporary notices were sparse but appreciative of its soulful eccentricity, while retrospective love from crate-diggers, reissue labels, and spiritual jazz enthusiasts has grown steadily. Critics and connoisseurs praise its warm grooves, genuine feeling, and refusal to overstay its welcome. In the broader landscape, it stands as a charming under-the-radar gem from the late-’70s New York scene. Its legacy is that of a humble beacon: proof that profound, spiritually charged music could be made on modest budgets by working musicians with big hearts and curious ears. For Cha Cha Shaw, it captures a vital chapter in a career that balanced sideman reliability with personal vision. Decades later, reissues have introduced it to new generations who appreciate its textural warmth and joyful exploration. Kingdom Come may not be the loudest voice in the spiritual jazz choir, but it’s one of the most endearing—inviting you to melt into its soul and come out the other side a little more right on. Dig deep; the kingdom is groovy.

Charles Cha Cha Shaw - 1976 - Into Morning

Charles Cha Cha Shaw

1976

Into Morning

01. Eternal

02. K.Z.

03. Jugetty

04. Super Slik

Bass – Ronnie Boykins

Percussion – Art Blakey Jr.

Piano, Guitar – Billy Lyles

Tenor Saxophone – Brian Ross

Trumpet, Flugelhorn – Charles Cha Cha Shaw

Into Morning, Charles “Cha Cha” Shaw’s 1976 debut album on Folkways Records, is a warm, introspective, and occasionally fiery plunge into spiritual-tinged post-bop that feels like a sunrise jam session in a Harlem loft—intimate enough to hear every breath, ambitious enough to reach for the cosmos, and funky enough to keep your toes tapping while your soul does the heavy lifting. Clocking in with just four extended tracks, it’s the kind of record that rewards deep listening without demanding you sit in lotus position or burn incense (though both are encouraged). In an era when spiritual jazz was exploding in all directions, Shaw delivered something personal, grounded, and refreshingly unpretentious—like a working-class trumpet player who’d paid his dues on pop sessions deciding it was time to chase enlightenment on his own terms.

Born in New York, Charles “Cha Cha” Shaw earned his nickname from his lively, rhythmic approach to the horn and a personality that could light up any bandstand. A versatile sideman, he had already lent his trumpet to heavyweights like Curtis Mayfield, The Temptations, and even sessions linked to the Coltrane circle and Rashied Ali. By the mid-1970s, like many of his generation, he was drawn to the spiritual jazz underground, seeking deeper expression beyond commercial gigs. His influences blend Miles Davis’ modal elegance, the searching spirituality of John Coltrane and Pharoah Sanders, the earthy loft-scene energy of New York’s underground, and plenty of gospel and soul from his pop/R&B background. Shaw’s trumpet voice is bright, vocal, and expressive—technically strong yet full of heart, never afraid to stretch out or get a little gritty.

Released on the iconic Folkways Records (FTS 32863), Into Morning fits perfectly into the label’s mission of capturing authentic, non-commercial American creativity. Moe Asch’s imprint was a haven for voices too quirky or deep for major labels, and this was one of their rare modern jazz outings in the 1970s. The core group is a tight yet loose collective of fellow travelers: Shaw on trumpet and flugelhorn, the legendary Ronnie Boykins (Sun Ra’s longtime bassist) laying down deep, resonant foundations, Art Blakey Jr. on percussion bringing swinging family pedigree energy, Brian Ross on tenor saxophone for sharp, conversational interplay, and Billy Lyles contributing piano and guitar for harmonic warmth and texture. It’s a small-group setup that feels communal and lived-in, like friends turning a rehearsal into something transcendent.

The album opens with the title track “Eternal” (10:53), a glowing, expansive modal journey that lets Shaw’s flugelhorn sing long, lyrical lines over Boykins’ hypnotic bass and subtle percussion. It sets the spiritual tone without pretension—searching yet welcoming. “K.Z.” tightens things with more rhythmic drive and some post-bop edge, while the epic “Jugetty” (over 11 minutes) stretches into freer, more impassioned territory, full of call-and-response horns and building intensity. Closer “Super Slik” brings a groovier, almost funky strut that showcases the group’s versatility and Shaw’s knack for memorable heads that launch extended improvisations. All compositions are Shaw originals, highlighting his gifts as both melodist and conceptual leader.

Technically and sonically, Into Morning is a masterclass in organic small-group jazz. Shaw’s tone is clear and projective—capable of tender lyricism on flugelhorn or more assertive, crying statements on trumpet—while his improvisations balance technique with genuine emotional depth. The rhythm section creates a buoyant, breathing pocket: Boykins’ bass is a warm anchor, the percussion adds tactile swing, and Lyles’ piano/guitar provides just enough harmonic color without crowding. There’s real dialogue happening; solos emerge naturally from the collective rather than feeling like spotlight turns. The Folkways recording has that classic natural, roomy quality—intimate and present, with good separation that lets every nuance breathe. It’s spiritual jazz with post-bop roots and a soulful heartbeat: introspective yet energetic, avant-leaning without losing the groove. If a young Woody Shaw had crashed a Sun Ra Arkestra rehearsal but everyone agreed to keep things relatively earthly and swinging, something like this might result.

The artwork, designed by Ronald Clyne, embodies classic Folkways minimalism—straightforward, earnest, and culturally proud, with bold lettering and imagery that feels handmade and intentional. No cosmic gatefold explosions or flashy graphics; it radiates quiet dignity and says “this is real music by real people exploring something deeper,” perfectly matching the album’s unflashy sincerity.

Upon its 1976 release, Into Morning remained a quiet affair—typical for Folkways, it found its audience through libraries, educators, jazz collectors, and word-of-mouth rather than radio play or charts. Contemporary reviews were limited but appreciative of its soulful depth, while retrospective praise from spiritual jazz fans, crate-diggers, and reissue enthusiasts has grown warmer over the decades. Critics laud its balance of accessibility and exploration, Shaw’s strong trumpet work, and the genuine feeling that permeates every track. In a crowded field of 1970s spiritual jazz heavyweights, it stands as a charming, under-the-radar gem.

Its legacy is that of a humble but heartfelt debut: proof that a working musician with big ears and spiritual hunger could carve out something personal and lasting on a shoestring budget in the underground. For Cha Cha Shaw, it launched a small but meaningful discography (including the follow-up Kingdom Come) and captured him at a vital creative peak. Reissues on Smithsonian Folkways and independent labels have introduced it to new generations who crave authentic, warm-toned jazz with soul. Into Morning may not shout the loudest in the spiritual jazz pantheon, but it glows with quiet conviction—inviting you to ease into its world and emerge refreshed, maybe even a little more eternal. If you’re digging through the crates for hidden treasures, this one’s worth waking up early for. The morning is groovy, and the journey feels just right.