Alice Coltrane
Translinear Light

The return of the Wife. It’s not a horror for widowers, but simply the splendid album by the wife of an indisputable genius of modern Jazz, over twenty years after her last release. Yes, because Alice Coltrane is the wife of John, perhaps the last saxophonist who indelibly turned the page in the history of his instrument. One of the most imitated (in vain) and revered (rightly so) musicians in the history of African American music.

But it's not about John that - this time, at least - we want to talk. It is about his family. His wife Alice and his sons Ravi and Oran, obviously saxophonists, and very talented ones at that, who, along with a very respectable band (featuring Charlie Haden on double bass and two legends alternating on the drums, Jeff Tain Watts and Jack Dejohnette...) crafted in 2004, a splendid album, as easy to enjoy and listen to as it is difficult to review. Difficult like all pure atmosphere records, where compositions are written without harmonic fanaticism yet are never banal (and, essentially, very well written), and where improvisations are neither fanatical nor out of place. The leader alternates between the piano and the Wurlitzer organ, and one certainly cannot say she is a great instrumentalist, at least from a purely and objectively technical point of view. However, she is indisputably a great musician, with a soul to spare and undoubtedly with great meditative skills on the instrument, which is evident in every note, every touch. Her phrasing is far removed from the Jarrett-like standards that dominate modern pianism; hers are well-considered notes and lightning-fast runs, all somewhat similar yet never genuinely repetitive, and this is already, at least in part, inexplicable.

An album that makes no sense to review track by track, but that should be enjoyed in one breath, all in a row, whether gathering in one's thoughts or calmly doing something else. It does not require the absolute attention of a "Radiance" by Jarrett, or an "A Love Supreme" by the immortal Husband, because it is an album that is both deep, relaxing, and absolutely enjoyable. And, above all, it is an autumnal album. If there is one argument in which I do not admit any contradiction (which I usually accept anywhere and anyway), it is that music has its seasons, and does not always sound the same. Well, this album, just like, mutatis mutandis, the entire works of Battisti-Panella, is distinctly autumnal, just as Vasco and the great orchestras, first among them Ellington, are spring-summer, and Garbarek with the Hillard Ensemble, like Bach, is undeniably winter. So, if anyone would like to try to take my advice, try buying this album and listening to it on a foggy day, whether you are in the countryside or the outskirts of a big city, in the office or at home making sauce, or chasing after your crawling child... What matters is that it is autumn, and your mind is willing to relax, even unconsciously, while engaged in other matters, with Coltrane's improvisation.

And everything here sounds old and ultra-modern at the same time. In a setup consistently coherent with contemporaneity, it almost seems as if you can hear the old John, with his soprano, diving into the family with one of his solos, so perfect, so inimitable. This family proudly bears the Coltrane name, producing music that is right, beautiful, reflective, and intelligent, never banal or useless. And in the end, it nearly makes you think that John is still alive, there, proud, listening to them play.