Frank Wright
Unity

 The best treasures are those hard to find. In some cases, the treasure finds you. 

Until a few months ago, I wouldn't have even imagined the pleasure that Free Jazz could transmit to me, and certainly, I would never have gone in search of this rare delicacy.

Even a scream can be musical, even melodious. In truth, the excitement that a scream can give is often incredibly greater than that which a melody can transmit.

This music is magnificent, it's the most carnal and direct expression possible through sound vibrations. It's impossible not to be shaken and disturbed by such a hurricane.

Unity arouses supreme love, or hatred, disdain; it's not an album that can be just pleasant. Many would say it's not even music; it is certainly a sound orgasm, the result of an immense effort - both physical and mental - by the artists.

It is highbrow music, as it requires concentration and predisposition, popular music because it is the result of African-American anger and because the audience participates in the performance: you hear screams, chants, whistles, the listeners dance, get excited, and cannot stay still.

The most surprising thing is that the main performers of this work are almost completely unknown.
Frank Wright is one of the most intense instrumentalists I have ever encountered, a follower of the last Coltrane.
On the piano is Bobby Few; listening to his fists, his elbows on the keyboard is exhilarating, you feel filled with that cascade of sounds.
The bass soloing by Alan Silva allows for discovering the extreme expressiveness of the instrument.
Muhammad Ali is the protagonist of an immense effort: almost an hour of powerful drumming.
A group that spares no energy or ideas.

The album, the result of a live recording from 1974, offers the opportunity to indulge in an hour of madness.
The concert is divided into two parts; in the first half, the expressive possibilities of the instruments are thoroughly explored; the second half - probably the most interesting - is characterized by continuous references to the tradition of Blues and marching bands that later lead to Dixieland, especially in the long solo by Few, but then one remains deeply disturbed by the screams of the bass clarinet and Wright's voice.

That morning of June 1st was warm before Wright threw the first cry into his sax, then it became scorching.