Charles Mingus
Pithecanthropus Erectus

The years after thirty in a man's life are decisive, as well as a number rich in symbolism. Many examples, from the sacred to the profane (Christ, Buddha, Dante, etc.), suggest to us that at this moment of existence, experiences accumulated in an often disorganized manner find a new synthesis and meaning.

It was the same for Mingus, who in 1955 was, in fact, thirty-three years old. Already a well-known virtuoso of the double bass, a sophisticated composer balancing between classical music and jazz, he begins to fully regain improvisation, particularly developing its collective aspect. After years of elaborating complex scores (which he would continue to write to arrange his pieces for larger ensembles), Mingus acknowledges that, even with the most meticulous writing, music as he hears it cannot be reproduced. Instead, there are the personalities of the musicians playing with him, and each one of them hears the music in their own way.
He stops chasing this ghost, and by communicating the general outline of what he has in mind, he adapts and allows parts to be adapted for each collaborator, relying more on memory than on writing. Those who play know how much more freedom can be found by abandoning the score, restoring to music its airy wonder, following the chords in the sky, looking upward.

This extraordinary record is the first complete testimony of such renewal/re-discovery, and it is dated 1956, a cornerstone of all the future work of the great bassist. You can find more in-depth analyses and descriptions better written than I can manage in the beautiful volume by Stefano Zenni "Charles Mingus. Polifonie dell'universo afroamericano" (I quote from memory, but it seems almost correct to me), published by Stampa Alternativa in the commendable series Jazz People. The splendid review of "Mingus Ah Um" also touches on this.
The lineup is one of the most compact: two saxophones, piano bass, and drums, but with some overdubbing, it sounds like an orchestra. Mingus is a master in mixing instrumental timbres. The first track, which gives the title to the album, is the story of man in a ten-minute suite, mysterious and enveloping, a subdued theme that occasionally stirs, up to exploding in collective improvisation, along with time variations from 4/4 to 6/4, in an exciting crescendo of tensions and dissonances.

Jackie McLean, a very young alto saxophonist, is superb, an acidic and sharp sound, yet capable of unsuspected delicacies, while Mingus embroiders and conducts with a powerful timbre. "A foggy day" is perhaps the least homogeneous piece compared to the level of the album. A standard piece, but with an amusing background reprise of the noises of San Francisco that Mingus heard from his house, which amused and tormented him. "Profile of Jackie" is a brief composition tailor-made for McLean, who opens his throat and sax to the entire range of sounds he knows.
Finally, "Love chant" is another masterpiece within the masterpiece. A driving piano riff, melodious and melancholic sax lines chasing each other, and then energetic and jaunty mid-tempo swing, an inexhaustible turnaround. An excellent introduction to the art of Mingus, perhaps a bit more accessible than the masterpieces to come. A work, like all those of our hero, outside the currents, always untimely, beyond bebop, beyond Hard-bop, free before the free, and not just free.

In short, music to listen to and live, always mobile, always rich and surprising, like the great music and the great art of all time.

P.S. I am not sure which cover is available in the market. I have the beautiful one by Julio de Diego, a drawing that imitates ancient cave paintings, but I couldn't find it as an image; it always gives me the one I am attaching.