Pharoah Sanders
Thembi

From the very beginning it envelops you softly: an astral wandering you wish would never end.

A twelve-bar 21st Century Cosmic Blues: that's how Lonnie L. Smith defined it, who lined up the notes of that electric piano, like the frothing of the wave, the ebb and flow of breath, or the faint twinkling of the Little Dipper.

But also an intense, clear, and relaxed Spiritual:

Pharoah is the Pied Piper and we are so many white mice, astonished.

Pharoah is the silver knife and we are butter.

Pharoah is spring and we are so many tender sprouts.

Pharoah is the passing cloud and the motionless mountain—the thought that vanishes and the mind that does not tremble—and we are little drops of dew.

Pharoah is the archer with a steady hand, and we are the unsuspecting target.

Pharoah, in short, has in his hands a vehicle of enchanting dissonances, and with a gentle sway, he cradles and captivates us.

Thembi meaning worthy of trust. And indeed it is, when he takes us by the hand on smooth or rugged paths. His tenor stride has made the science of the moment the sharp tip of this invisible arrow and eternity its own modus vivendi. Since when does sound dyspraxia (usually improperly called freejazz) feel intimate, familiar? Yet it is precisely so.