Ornette Coleman
The Shape Of Jazz To Come

In the 1960s, jazz was turning into a somewhat too classical phenomenon. It was fashionable to applaud this or that artist who was so technically prepared and whose spirituality expressed itself in striking performances that were nevertheless praised. Even those incompetent countesses would throw themselves into rapturous bows at the mercy of the trend of the time. If there is one beautiful thing about jazz, it is that it is intimate. Mass jazz reeked of paradox.

Enter the prince of brazen rebellion of a jazz that had inadvertently overflowed from its historically contained banks.

Let me take a step back. In 2003, I attended a tribute by four musicians to Ornette Coleman in the humid province of Brescia. The performance was free and took place in a historical context that was as pleasant as ever. Spectators: about thirty. Many came, sensed the heaviness and the difficult succession of harmonies, and slipped away unhappy and with heads down. I, in my little corner, snickered excitedly watching the heated and feverish musicians execute Coleman’s majestic free jazz for over an hour, burning 10,000 calories. Did you know that live free jazz is a mystical experience? I had never realized it could convey so much, and it was so pleasurable to see that I shared the emotion with a few, intimate spectators. At the end of the performance, the leader asserted that free jazz cannot and should not be scary, and still too few people approach it.

All this preface to talk about "The Shape Of Jazz To Come" of 1959. It should be said that at the time Coleman was accused of having killed jazz. His early works were published by Contemporary, thanks to the boldness of some producer, and with the new label, Atlantic, the Texan artist was preparing for even greater horizons. In truth, Ornette was on a mission: to kick the formality in which jazz was establishing itself.

Six tracks, opens with the standard "Lonely Woman" on which Metheny built one of the most daring albums of his career: Rejoicing (here on debaser splendidly reviewed by the good symbad the bassist) where the musical path embarked upon smells of prickly free D.O.C.G.

Back to Coleman. In this work, the implicit but guarded freedom of jazz is described. Harmonic schemes are broken, melodic aspects are destroyed using sonorities that until then could only be considered cacophonous. Among the musicians is the good bassist Charlie Haden. The basic quartet is completed with Don Cherry on trumpet and Billie Higgins on drums.

Believe it or not, to Ornette, these two aforementioned artists felt constricting: too classical, too ordered, incredibly unsuited for his subsequent free projects.

Some of you might immediately think of Mingus' experiments or Lennie Tristano’s digressions. But Coleman's Free Jazz is something else. Indeed, his excess of improvisation may weigh until the compositional ability that remains transparent, almost rigorous and traditional, arrives. All his music stems from the blues spirit, even if in his written production there are no canonical blues. When I say traditional, I mean the typical cultural tradition (albeit with the brazenness of the rebel). Master of ballads, besides "Lonely Woman", there are playful pieces like "Peace" or "Congeniality" where a clear sense of arbitrary rejection emerges.

An album certainly not easy, requires patience and concentration and promises great things from the very first chords. Learning to follow it is an exercise that requires mental freshness for an approach with the head, without forgetting the heart.