Don Cherry - 1975 - Brown Rice

Don Cherry 

1975

Brown Rice

01. Brown Rice - 5:15

02. Malkauns (Bengt Berger, Don Cherry) - 14:02

03. Chenrezig - 12:51

04. Degi-Degi - 7:06

Don Cherry - trumpet, piano, electric piano, vocals

Frank Lowe - saxophone (tracks 1, 2 and 4)

Ricky Cherry - piano, electric piano (tracks 1, 2 and 4)

Charlie Haden - bass (tracks 1, 3 and 4)

Billy Higgins - drums

Verna Gillis - vocals (track 1)

Bunchie Fox - bongos (track 1)

Hakim Jamil - bass (track 2)

Moki - tambura (track 3)

Recorded at The Basement Recording Studios in New York (tracks 1, 2 & 4) and at Grog Kill in Woodstock (track 3).

After the seismic 23 months (1959-1961) in which the Ornette Coleman Quartet flipped the jazz world on its ear, Coleman, drummer Ed Blackwell, bassist Charlie Haden, and trumpeter Don Cherry scattered to the winds. In the decades that followed, Coleman jammed with everyone from the London Symphony Orchestra to his ten-year old son Denardo to the Master Musicians of Joujouka. Ed Blackwell drummed for Eric Dolphy and Yoko Ono while Haden wed Spanish Civil War folk songs to jazz. And Don Cherry set about traversing the globe in search of what he deemed organic music.

Today, you can find the word organic in any Kroger or corner bodega, but in the early 70s it was as alien as yoga, world music, and a macrobiotic diet, all concepts that would inform Cherry s approach to music for the rest of his life. Uprooted from Oklahoma to the Watts ghetto in California when the oil boom destroyed the family land, Cherry was attuned to societal ills from an early age. And while his work was rooted in jazz improvisation, Cherry sought a level playing field in his work that could unite Indian classical, African township jive, Indonesian gamelan, Arabic folk, electric Miles, early minimalism, orchestral music, skronky noise, and more, sometimes all at once. Cherry s childlike vision of inclusiveness pioneered what would soon be known as world music. But rather than a sippable caf soundtrack, Cherry s music was sprawling, free, ecstatic, and devout.

Most of his 70s albums came in the form of concert recordings that captured him in the heat of the moment, but 1975 s Brown Rice is a thrilling exception. Cut across two studios in New York, the four compositions here present the most focused vision of Cherry s muse, resembling his wife Moki Cherry s carefully assembled tapestries rather than the paint splatters of live performance. Featuring Haden on bass, old Coleman drummer Billy Higgins, fiery saxophonist Frank Lowe, and Moki on tambura, with glints of vocals and electronics, the album is searing and psychedelic, pulsing and deeply hypnotic. Abstract, visceral, and deeply personal (the cover photo shows Cherry at Watts Towers), Brown Rice anticipates the boundary-free future of music. But it wasn t always easy to hear; never reissued on CD in the US, this vinyl reissue comes some 40 years after its original release.

In the opening minute of Brown Rice, Cherry s world-embracing vision is made clear. An ode to a time in Cherry s life when he subsisted only on brown rice to remind myself there were starving people in the world (though Julian Cope suggests it might be about heroin instead), it speaks to the two extremes of Cherry, that of the spiritual seeker and the junkie jazz musician. Two electric keyboards chime in tandem, emulating either Chinese classical music or gamelan, while Haden s wah-wah bass interlocks with electric bongos and forms a groove. Vocalist Verna Gillis purrs an inviting and skin-prickling ooh. As it all starts to percolate and cook, Lowe s bluesy outbursts lance the tapestry and Cherry calmly utters the titular phrase and other ingredients like miiiiso, his intonation making that bulk grain sound at once wholly sensuous and slightly sinister.

Malkauns references one of the oldest raga forms in Indian classical music. Moki Cherry s tambura acts as a resting breath beneath the expansive composition, slow and deep, as Haden takes an extended solo that s contemplative, poignant, and unhurried. When Cherry and Higgins enter nearly five minutes in, the piece moves from calm to urgent, casting off the strictures of Eastern and Western musical forms and cresting towards a sumptuous peak.

Chenrezig is the closest Brown Rice ever gets to sounding like straight jazz, though purists might disagree. Nearly as long as Malkauns and with a gaze similarly affixed towards infinity, it s named for the most revered of all Bodhisattvas (the Dalai Lama is considered to be his reincarnation). After opening chimes and Cherry s growled incantation set the ritual in motion, his trumpet flutters around Lowe s melodic, vibrato-heavy solo, leading towards a tranquil center some 8 minutes in. The piece then turns ferocious; ecstatic blues chords from pianist Ricky Cherry urge the song forward and Lowe plows ahead with a shrieking, stratospheric solo, Don Cherry joining him with high-register runs and vocal ululations.

Closer Degi-Degi suggests a liminal space between German kosmische, Afrobeat, jazz fusion, and electric funk, powered by Haden s incessant bass and Cherry s high-arcing solos and whispers about the goddess of music. Relentless and incandescent, it rebuffs the notion that spiritual music must be placid. Much like Coleman, Albert Ayler, and John Coltrane did in the 60s, Cherry suggests as Alice Coltrane did in the same era that true spiritual awakening stems not always from a state of peace but from tumult and upheaval. In its balance of noise and bliss, beauty and chaos, Brown Rice is true world music.

Don Cherry - 1973 - Relativity Suite

Don Cherry

1973

Relativity Suite

01. Tantra 7:58

02. Mali Doussn'Gouni 5:37

03. Desireless 1:25

04. The Queen Of Tung Ting Lake 4:32

05. Trans-Love Airways 6:48

06. Infinite Gentleness 3:24

07. March Of The Hobbits 3:37

Alto Saxophone, Soprano Saxophone, Voice – Charles Brackeen

Alto Saxophone, Voice – Carlos Ward

Bass – Charlie Haden

Cello – Jane Robertson, Pat Dixon

Drums – Ed Blackwell

French Horn – Sharon Freeman

Percussion – Paul Motian

Piano – Carla Bley

Tenor Saxophone, Voice – Dewey Redman, Frank Lowe

Trombone – Brian Trentham

Trumpet, Conch, Voice, Percussion, Conductor, Composed By, Producer – Don Cherry

Tuba – Jack Jeffers

Viola – Joan Kalisch, Nan Newton

Violin – Leroy Jenkins

Recorded on February 14, 1973, Blue Rock Studio, New York City.

A reissue of Don Cherry's Relatively Suite, originally released in 1973. Finally, available again on vinyl. Recorded with the Jazz Composer's Orchestra. At this time, Cherry was becoming increasingly interested in Middle Eastern and traditional African and Indian music, having traveled extensively and studied with Indian musician, Vasant Rai. This suite of songs was particularly influenced by the Indian Carnatic singing tradition, as can be heard from the very opening moments of the album. Featuring Carla Bley on piano, Charlie Haden on bass, and Ed Blackwell on drums, as well as an extended horn and string section, Cherry collaborated extensively with the Jazz Composer's Orchestra throughout the early '70s.

I kind of wish it was a little longer but it is dense enough that its short length is welcome. This is some next level spiritual jazz. It draws from the traditions of classical and jazz as well as non western influences divinely. March of the Hobbits kind of throws wrench in this whole spiritual vibe but in a weird almost psychedelic fashion. Definitely reminiscent of his soundtrack work on The Holy Mountain.

Maintains the globe-trotting approach of the "Organic Music Society" album but with far more discipline this time. This is leaner (less than half the length) and far more engaging, pointing the way towards the marvelous "Brown Rice"

Yoko Ono - 1970 - Yoko Ono / Plastic Ono Band

Yoko Ono

1970 

Yoko Ono / Plastic Ono Band

01. Why
02. Why Not
03. Greenfield Morning I Pushed An Empty Baby Carriage All Over The City
04. Aos
05. Touch Me
06. Paper Shoes

Bonus tracks:
07. Open Your Box
08. Something More Abstract
09. The South Wind

Recorded at Abbey Road Studios, October 1970.

"AOS" is from a rehearsal tape for show at Albert Hall with Ornette Coleman, February 1968.

Track 7 previously unreleased version.
Track 8 previously unreleased. From Plastic Ono Band sessions.
Track 9 previously unreleased. Recorded on 1/4" tape in New York City.

The original UK release comes with a custom Apple inner sleeve with credits, flower illustration, edication to John ('For John with love from Yoko, 9/10/70') and its instruction to 'Play in the dark'.

Bass – Charlie Haden (tracks: 4), David Izenzon (tracks: 4), Klaus Voormann
Drums – Edward Blackwell, Ringo Starr
Guitar – John Lennon
Trumpet – Ornette Coleman (tracks: 4)
Vocals, Design – Yoko Ono

It’s extremely difficult to discuss any of Lennon/Ono’s early work because it’s either so personal, so atonal or just plain fucking harrowing you’d really rather prefer not to have to do all the hard work listening to anything by them before their later cooled out Phil Spector-produced aural palliatives. But I’ll say this: “Plastic Ono Band” by Yoko Ono is one extremely raw and alive album, slashing all the portraits and throwing over all the busts in the hallowed halls of post-Beatledom expectation as Lennon backs his wife in a shattering display that “Helter Skelter” (which was McCartney, anyway) only hinted at. No, Yoko Ono’s “Plastic Ono Band” LP is far more shattering, beginning as an engineer quickly presses the play button to capture “Why”, the live in the studio Free-Rock howler already in progress. Lennon’s skittering and jittery slide/noise guitar needles through the backing band of Klaus Voormann (bass) and Ringo Starr (you know) at top amp alarm a good eight years before Public Image Limited (more specifically, their psychotic “Chant”) but when Yoko comes in all needles hit the red and stay there as she implores, shrieks and wails the epigrammatic title. Voormann’s bass and Ringo’s rock steady anchoring provide all the space in the world by rocking out as Lennon pitches, bends and throttles his guitar in conduct completely unbecoming from an ex-Beatle. This is a track of the highest total energy that demands the utmost volume available.

“Why Not” follows, the tempo greatly eased up with bottleneck slide guitar and Ringo’s ever solid, loving drumming -- he could have drummed with Cecil Taylor and made it make sense, bringing more to the piece in the process, as his simple yet highly attentive style is well-suited in the arena of music of expanse. And the expanse continues as “Why Not” is the question this album both poses and answers simultaneously: Ms. Ono’s avant garde background brought to Lennon’s rebellious streak a space of expression only bounded by imagination as they set out to live their lives together as art. So they each released a “Plastic Ono Band” album apiece with extremely similar cover designs and backed by the same rhythm section of Voormann/Starr. But stylistically, the music on both were from the opposite ends of musical experience with Lennon’s LP of more structured songs contrasting with Ono’s more wildly improvisational avant freakouts. But one thing both albums shared was a Janov-inspired freeing of unleashing all internalised pain, and for Yoko, that meant through screaming, moaning, whispering or orgasming it all out until the emptiness filled her with silence.

At other times, Ono’s voice seems to turn to water or the rustle of wind as “Why Not” creeps in, balanced by the fire of her husband’s feedbacking and the earth of ever-solid backing from Voormann/Ringo begin to in a quietly free zone. Then Lennon starts riffing off his wife’s vocals, feedbacking off her as she calls his name, draws it out, calling out “Touch me...” and it all starts to pick up as only the loosest avant rock pickup band could, lurching haywired and perfectly not in sync, going beyond a crossfaded train FX that cuts in and rolls beyond the track’s end. The side ends with “Greenfield Morning I Pushed An Empty Baby Carriage All Over The City,” a drone exercise/exorcise of a ringing guitar riff masquerading as a sitar tape loop accompanies multi-tracked Yoko vocals. The band fades in, stripped down within rudimentary rhythmic cross-hatching as Yoko’s vocals ascend in an uncharacteristically lower register tape delay, standing tall and defiantly in the midst of her recent personal tragedy that only a woman can truly feel and mourn. Her voice becomes entwined within ensuing Abbey Road birdsong FX, increasing volume to a sinister level.

Side two’s “Aos” is where Ornette Coleman and his band of one drummer and two stand up bassists (one of them Charlie Haden) back Ono on an improvisation with lilting, lyric-less vocals as they run small curlicues and snatches of riffs behind her small vocals perched between a breath taken and a whisper of an orgasm. Then Yoko lets loose with the most megatonic vocal issue of the album -- It’s so loud, all other signals temporarily drop off as the jazzers careen into improv hell as they all fall into avant jazz freak out gloriously. It all eventually simmers back into quietude and strangeness...a cough...Ono continues sporadically. A coughing fit...Yoko breathes...The track is done.

“Touch Me” returns to the spiky, distorto-ness of side one with super syncopated drums recorded with all the warmth that was applied to Ringo’s instruments on “The White Album.” Yoko’s vocalizing remarkably sounds like a free jazz saxophone at one point, while Lennon’s out-of-kilter freeforms inspire Voormann to turn in some plonking, leaden bass notes. “Paper Shoes” continues the train track clattering FX from side one, its steady rhythm soon superseded by rain and thunder. A continuous tom-tom pattern soon emerges along with Yoko’s banshee’d-out wailing, and all intensifies with Lennon’s guitar hollow (-out-of-) body (-iness) playing. All halts with a final Ono “aaaaaaaaaaaayy,” but after moments of silence, carnivorous howling ensues in the background. Yoko then speaks for the only time on the album, as to both herself and the listener she smiles, “Don’t worry” right before the locked inner groove repeats or lifts up, depending on the turntable in use.

Recorded concurrently with John Lennon's Plastic Ono Band album, Yoko's features the same musicians, namely John, Ringo Starr, and Klaus Voormann along with the Ornette Coleman Quartet on one cut. Unlike John's record, however, Yoko's is much more a "jam"-sounding record. And while there are definite songs, lyrics are mainly vocal improvisations. Still, if avant-garde is your cup of tea, then check this one out. It's good, if only to hear John Lennon really get the guitar cranking on the opening cut, "Why." The 1997 CD reissue adds three bonus cuts: a previously unreleased version of "Open Your Box" (which would be used as the flip side to John Lennon's "Power to the People" single), the previously unreleased, 16-minute improv piece "The South Wind," and a previously unreleased 44-second snippet of "Something More Abstract."