There is a moment in the movie "Immortal Beloved"; a Countess is
in love with a young Ludwig Van Beethoven, but her father suspects
that the young composer is hiding something, namely that he might
be loosing his hearing. So, to test his theory, he purchases a new
piano. He then has his daughter write a letter to Beethoven, asking
him to try it out. She states in the letter that he will be alone
and undisturbed. The plan is, when he arrives, they spy on him to
see if he can still actually hear. What happens, though, is that
he puts his head to the piano and begins to play the Moonlight Sonata
in such a way that he and the Countess are both moved to tears.
When Ornette Coleman first began performing his free jazz live in New York in the 50's, there would be evenings when the audience, expecting to hear something similar to the bebop that Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie had invented, would storm out of the club angry. There were even times when some people would be so offended by Coleman's music that they would actually beat him up. However, he kept performing and, in 1959, he released a flurry of new music and obtained a regular gig at the prestigious 5 Spot.
The question I intend to address is, why? What would motivate a man, alone in another person's home, to perform in such a manner? Why would someone continue playing music even if he knew that his audience might turn violent? I know, a better question might be "what the heck does philosophy and Beethoven have to do with jam bands?" I'll get to that. But for now let's get back to this question of why. The answer has to do with those moments in life that occur when one has given himself completely and utterly to some process not for the purpose of its results but solely for the feeling gained through that process. Joseph Campbell calls this the peak moment. The Allman Brothers called it hitting the note. I will borrow a term from the Eastern religious traditions, which I think more closely describes what is really happening: transcendence.
So what about the modern-day transcendent musician? In what medium is a performer's complete abandon not only accepted but indeed encouraged? That's right, you guessed it, the jam band. If you don't believe me, then watch MTV for a while when they're playing videos and ask yourself: would this guy still be doing this if nobody were looking?
The jam band really has become the only game in town for artists of the American musical tradition. There is no limitation on what influences can be brought into the music. Those people who are fans of jam bands recognize transcendence in musicians and flock to them. Indeed, this is the first time in American music history since the bebop age when that was true. Also, this is the first time since New York in the 50s when audiences recognized that musical virtuosity and emotional stature ("soul") are NOT mutually exclusive, as many blues purists would want you to believe.
I lived in Tallahassee, Florida during the late 80s and early 90s and would frequent all the local music clubs. I believed then, as I still do, that supporting local music was the best thing you could do to affect a positive change in musical trends. However, back then, it was rare to go to a club and walk away feeling like something transcendent had occurred. Today, I live in Atlanta and have the good fortune to be in driving distance from Smith's Olde Bar and the Brandy House. Now, this spirit of complete sacrifice of self to the music is in just about every band I see, from local acts like Everyday People to those touring the club circuit like Chupacabra to the best known of the jam band artists like Bruce Hampton. I envy those of you living within driving distance of the Wetlands.
For this installment of the essential recordings, I will be featuring those albums from the American musical tradition which best illustrate the concept of transcendence. The participants of these recordings all have one thing in common: complete dedication to the music being made.
The Mahavishnu Orchestra - The Inner Mounting Flame
This recording has a jaw-drop factor of 10. There are moments when John McLaughlin and Billy Cobham are so tight with each other you would swear they are telepathic. Try listening to this album on headphones and see if your mind is not in full primal scream by the end of the last track. Actually, any album by the Mahavishu Orchestra is amazing, but only on this first one will you hear all of the technical virtuosity, the Indian raga-inspired songwriting, and the incredible improvisations performed with such complete abandon.
Derek and the Dominoes - Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs
This album features the most gut-wrenching performances of Clapton's career. It's one thing to walk down to your local bar, get drunk, then slur to the bartender that you are in love with your best friend's wife. It's quite another completely engross four other brilliant musicians in your problem, then express it through music so absolutely devastating.
The Allman Brothers Band - At Filmore East
OK, so this choice may be a little biased. But lets face it: if you can say that Layla is Duane Allman's second-greatest recording, then that alone speaks volumes for this recording, which is surely his best.
John Coltrane - A Love Supreme
I could write volumes on this album, and if you subscribe to the ABB listserv you have already seen some of my rantings on the greatness of this recording. John Coltrane elevated his music to the level of religion, and this album is his most perfect. It begins with a simple chant and moves through heights of elation and the depths of devotion. In addition to Coltrane, McCoy Tyner, Jimmy Garrison, and especially Elvin Jones give the performance of a lifetime. But what makes it most incredible is the fact that none of it was rehearsed before it was recorded. All the wandering key changes in the first track, all the intricate drum and bass interplay in the ending, and McCoy Tyner's astounding connection with John Coltrane for the solos… all improvised. Incredible.