ASCENSION by John Coltrane

I think it was the cover that first drew me in.  The stark black and white of the image contrasted with the multicoloured playfulness of the title font seemed to promise great and exciting things, and certainly didn't fail to deliver.  It's a style that has become so distinctive, and so recognisable amongst afficianados of experimental jazz, that the Manchester-based label Gondwana have appropriated it for several of their recent releases.  When I first heard Ascension, I'd been looking through the music files on a friend's computer, and the cover was the first thing to jump out at me.  I had no idea then that the album was the first of Coltrane's many forays into free jazz, a period which I had previously dismissed out of hand as being simply "noise", but the fact that it consisted of two takes of a single, 40-minute track should perhaps have tipped me off.  That and the fact that in 1966, Downbeat magazine had described Ascension as "possibly the most powerful human sound ever recorded"; such hyperbole is only ever heaped upon the avant-garde.  So I pressed play, and had an epiphany.

Ever heard an orchestra tuning up?  It's a lovely, powerful sound.  Imagine an orchestra filled with saxophones, trumpets, bass, piano and drums tuning up whilst improvising around a simple yet effective 5-note theme.  That's about as close as I can get to describing the ensemble sections of Ascension, where all 11 musicans hurl themselves into a majestic, swirling cacophony.  And although these sections could certainly be described as free-form - albeit a freedom somewhat restrained by Coltrane's original, unifying theme - the music reverts to more conventional structures during the solo interludes, which emerge from the chaos one after another as miniature eyes of the storm.  Each soloist is backed by just the rhythm section, and given plenty of space to weave their own interpretation of Coltrane's esoteric vision.  And it is very much their own interpretation; Coltrane apparently gave the players no direction for their solos save that they were to end with a crescendo, thus signalling the ensemble to rejoin the fray.  Perhaps inevitably, these sections vary in quality; Dewey Johnson's trumpet solo is decidedly underwhelming next to such monumental company as Freddie Hubbard, Pharoah Sanders and Coltrane himself, all of whose solo spots are lessons in passionate and intense spontaneous composition.  Overall though, the music acheives the grandiose feeling of an improvised jazz symphony, which is probably not far from Coltrane's original intentions.  The listener cannot but be effected on an almost physical level by the towering blast of notes hammered out on horns, strings, keys and drums, and by the close of the final ensemble section you're left feeling that Ascension is the only title suitable for such a transcendent piece of music.

As mentioned above, Ascension is notable for being the first of Coltrane's albums where he did what he'd been promising to do for a long time, and completely tore himself away from the structures and conventions of jazz music as it was understood in the 1960s.  It subsequently became a symbol and a standard-bearer for the pioneers of experimental jazz who came later, and its power and influence have never waned.  But the record is notable for another reason.  Even as he was looking to the future with this album, Coltrane was also saying goodbye to his past.  It's often been commented that there are echoes of Coltrane's previous studio album, A Love Supreme, in the musical theme which underpins Ascension, but if you listen closely it seems to hark back even further.  Compare the 5-note theme of Ascension with the 5-note theme of his 1957 classic Blue Train, and it almost sounds like a variation of the same melody.  In terms of structure too, the record seems to be a variation on the more conventional jazz which was Coltrane's background.  Bebop - the style which Coltrane had first come to prominence playing - can usually be characterised by the ensemble/solo/solo/solo/ensemble structure of its tunes.  Ascension, despite its free-form aspirations, sticks tightly to an overall structure of ensemble/solo/ensemble/solo/ensemble/solo...etc.  Is this intended as a pastiche, a mockery of bebop, and thus Coltrane's musical past?  I don't believe so.  I believe it was a tribute, that Coltrane was recognising where he had come from, while at the same time signalling where he, and jazz music as a whole, was going.  He'd finally broken free, but couldn't quite let go.

NOT A TEEPEE

There's a lot of noise out there, as Stanley Clarke once said.  The internet is now so saturated with voices clamouring for your attention that it resembles a gigantic, digital market square, with millions upon millions of vendors bellowing about their wares.  There's an awful lot of chaff and not so much wheat, so it's important that we pick out those voices in the crowd who have something genuinely interesting and worthwhile to offer.  One such voice is that of the bizarrely-named Not A Teepee.

The brainchild of dutch musician John Hekert, Not A Teepee is a growing collective of musicians and artists who release an online concept album every couple of months.  Each album is based around a theme chosen by the collective, and it is this which acts as inspiration for the music and artwork contributed to the project.  To date, Not A Teepee has released four such albums, and their respective themes have been as varied as "mud", "vikings", "Ada Lovelace" and "silver".  Each artist interprets this theme as they see fit, which has led to a pleasingly diverse range of music on each release, as well as some killer album covers.  The artists themselves, while for the most part based in Scotland, are a cosmopolitan bunch; a cursory glance at the collective's Facebook page indicates that their current location is "SCOTLAND/NETHERLANDS/FRANCE/EVERYWHERE!".

I'm somewhat late to the party on this one, so what I'll do here is summarise the first four albums and then review each new release individually as it comes out.  Not A Teepee has thus far been a veritable melting pot of musical ideas, and while there are too many artists involved to list here, a few special mentions are in order to demonstrate the breadth of styles represented on these first four albums.  The collective's music runs the gamut from the dream-folk psychadelia of the Kitchen Cynics to the stark, looped soundscapes of Iliop.  Tim Courtney's mournful croon and shimmering arpeggios jostle for attention with Fiona Keenan's gritty modern folk songs, whilst Hekert himself flits between heart-wrenching acoustic balladry and ominous industrial noise.  There's much variation in the contributions of individual artists, too; Les Pelicans progress from jittery indie-afro rhythms on their first track to a humorous banjo ditty on their second, and How Deep Is The Valley's oppressive synthesizers and jazzy rhythms give way to tribal drumming, electronica and stripped-down acoustic guitar across these inital releases.

I know that you're all weary web-wanderers, living in an age where time is at a premium and information is force-fed to you on a minutely basis, but one of the more interesting quirks of the net's saturation is that word-of-mouth seems to have made a comeback.  When attempting to sift through all that noise you need reliable recommendations, and as such I'm giving you one.  Not A Teepee is very much worth your time and attention, and long may it continue to stand out from the crowd.

Music is available for streaming and free download at http://notateepee.bandcamp.com/, and you can also find the collective on Facebook.