Ornette Coleman Music

There should be a warning label on this CD saying 'Here, There Be Dragons', a phrase used on some ancient maps to denote unexplored, dangerous territory. This is definitely the heart, the soul, and the core of the 1960's "New Thing". The Ornette Coleman Double Quartet was an all-star lineup with Ornette, Eric Dolphy, Scotty LaFaro, Ed Blackwell, Billy Higgins, Don Cherry, Charlie Haden, and Freddie Hubbard in a single-track "Free Jazz" EXTRAVAGANZA that has structure and brilliant solos amid the controlled chaos. The unadventurous jazz fan should stay away from this one, but I call it a thing of AWESOME beauty. The swirling music is mesmerizing & pedagogic, and the bass & drum solo parts near the end in the 'eye of the storm' are magnificent. Take 1 is also included. 'Here, There Be Dragons', indeed!! Five HUGE Stars!! (Amazon.com MP3 Download of two tracks: 54:09, cover art insert by the legendary painter Jackson Pollock)

There should be a warning label on this CD saying 'Here, There Be Dragons', a phrase used on some ancient maps to denote unexplored, dangerous territory. This is definitely the heart, the soul, and the core of the 1960's "New Thing". The Ornette Coleman Double Quartet was an all-star lineup with Ornette, Eric Dolphy, Scotty LaFaro, Ed Blackwell, Billy Higgins, Don Cherry, Charlie Haden, and Freddie Hubbard in a single-track "Free Jazz" EXTRAVAGANZA that has structure and brilliant solos amid the controlled chaos. The unadventurous jazz fan should stay away from this one, but I call it a thing of AWESOME beauty. The swirling music is mesmerizing & pedagogic, and the bass & drum solo parts near the end in the 'eye of the storm' are magnificent. Take 1 is also included. 'Here, There Be Dragons', indeed!! Five HUGE Stars!! (Amazon.com MP3 Download of two tracks: 54:09, cover art insert by the legendary painter Jackson Pollock)

If you're not a genuine free jazz fan (a freebie?) you might still enjoy the energy and relentless swing of these heated performances, that use the power of stereo better than many contemporary artists...
Although Coleman's album Change of the Century seems to me more accesible - for instance, there is now the challenging stereo chaos and, well, it has more songs :-) - this is still interesting even for us who prerer more conservative types of jazz...

The assembley on the album is amazing - Eric Dolphy, Freddie Hubbard, Don Cherry and others really play exciting jazz.

Neglectful of the Tristano experiments carried out in the late 1940s, music critics generally credit Ornette Coleman with the invention of free jazz. So, curious about how Ornette's effort stacks up against Lennie's, I acquired "Free Jazz: A Collective Improvisation by the Ornette Coleman Double Quartet." The album was recorded in 1960 and released by Atlantic in 1961. Besides Ornette the personnel includes Don Cherry, Scott La Faro, Billy Higgins in one quartet and Eric Dolphy, Freddie Hubbard, Charlie Haden and Ed Blackwell in the other. After several hearings I conclude that there are no grounds for comparison. Lennie's and Ornette's concepts of group improvisation are diametrically opposed. Lennie's intention is to meld five musicians into one player with ten hands. The integration and unity achieved is so remarkable that had "Intuition" and "Digression" been written out beforehand and not spontaneously composed, the two pieces would still rank as the most exhilarating six minutes in 20th century chamber music. (As is well known, the free improvisations originally totaled about twelve minutes, but an "engineer" who disliked the result erased half of it. Anyone know his name? I'd like to erase six very important minutes in his life.) On the other hand, were Ornette's improvisation for double quartet, which is 37 minutes long, transcribed onto paper and performed, it would rank very low in terms of unity of conception. But here's what's extraordinary. Unity is precisely what Ornette is determined to avoid since it's his contention--which I infer from the music-- that the temptation to chime in with others emasculates the soloist's individuality by hindering his effort to express his natural originality. Consequently, whenever the players fall into a groove (which takes the form of brief bouts of lively, atonal Dixieland), the enjoyment is cut short and suddenly we're back in shared solitary confinement. So why play together at all? Because Ornette wants to collectively improvise without compromising the individual solo. "The most important thing," Ornette is quoted in the notes as saying, "was for us to play together, all at the same time, without getting in each other's way, and also to have enough room for each player to ad lib alone--and to follow this idea for the duration of the album. When the soloist played something that suggested a musical idea or direction to me, I played that behind him in my style. He continued his own way in his solo, of course." I think it's strongly implied here that by playing together Ornette mostly means playing at the same time but not necessarily in such a way as to spontaneously integrate the solos into a unified composition. For Ornette's fear is that striving for a too tightly integrated unity will undermine the freedom and independence of the soloists.

Whereas in the early days Lennie encouraged his students to emulate his own style of improvisation (which hardly required much coaxing so seductive was it), Ornette proceeds in the opposite direction in order to confirm the uncompromising individuality of each of his players. It's a matter of Lennie's all for one and one for all versus Ornette's to each his own but all together. And while there's no excuse for critics to fail to acknowledge Lennie's priority, it's understandable why Ornette might not wish to do so. For to acknowledge Lennie in any way except by pointing out the irreconcilable differences between them would force Ornette to come out in the open and admit that he is willing to defend the freedom and independence of the soloist even at the cost of disintegrating the music.
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This is a great album, but as other reviewers have noted, Ornette has done better. For example, his colloboration with Pat Metheny, Song X, is far more adventurous, intense, and powerful. This was a groundbreaking album in its day, and it's still really good. The liner notes from the original LP said that Ornette and his double quartet went into the studio, jammed for 37 minutes and 3 seconds, recorded it, and left the studio. The fact that there is a track called "First Take" (literally, a first take of Free Jazz) shows that this is false. Ornette's music was composed for the most part before the improvisation started. Ornette is an amazing musician, and this album is great, but there are better albums by him (Song X, The Shape of Jazz To Come, Change of the Century, and Chappaqua Suite).

First total free album in jazz history. But there are better Coleman's albums. This album is not too convincing. Company from this session is not in their best form. For example Coltrane '64-67 period albums are much better in gravity, cleric and value sides.

While Coleman titled his most famous album The Shape of Jazz to Come, this is really where he threw down the gauntlet, challenging all comers to make something more unique than this. And few had the guts to accept the challenge - this was 1960, after all. I don't think even Eric Dolphy had made the complete jump to avant-garde yet back then. And the critics laughed at Ornette. Fast forward five years, where John Coltrane had taken a cue from Ornette's albm-length masterpiece, putting out his (Ascension). Who's laughing now?
It goes without saying that, even some 47 years onward, it's still tough to find a point of comparison to Free Jazz. Coltrane had done the difficult album-length work with Ascension, but this is a whole different animal than Ascension. Hell, this manages to be even free - the original is usually the best, after all.
Now here's something for you jazz fans to meditate on. This album consists of two different quartets playing two entirely different things on each channel. So if you put the balance entirely on the left speaker, you'll hear one band, and if you choose to balance to the right, you'll hear another. For all practical purpose, you're hearing two songs at the same time. I suppose "song" is a loose definition, since structure's been entirely abandonded. Ditching structure is a risky business, but here it's cool by me. Why? Because the performances, besides being completely revolutionary, are simply stellar. Outstanding. A cut above the rest.
Again, who was doing anything like this in 1960? Trane and countless "progressive rock" bands tried the album-length piece thing, but none of their releases could measure up (though Ascension comes close). And the Velvet Underground - more indebtted to free jazz than one who hasn't heard their first two albums would think - had twice experimented with feeding two completely different things through both speaker channels, but it took them seven years to even consider that. And the truth of the matter is that free jazz would never again be this spontaneous. Out of the handful of Coleman records I've heard, I'll have to give this one the edge. Highly recommended, but only for those looking for something completely different. If Kenny G's your idea of "jazz", you need not apply.

yeah, i really like what happens in the 14th minute of Free Jazz

Neglectful of the Tristano experiments carried out in the late 1940s, music critics generally credit Ornette Coleman with the invention of free jazz. So, curious about how Ornette's effort stacks up against Lennie's, I acquired "Free Jazz: A Collective Improvisation by the Ornette Coleman Double Quartet." The album was recorded in 1960 and released by Atlantic in 1961. Besides Ornette the personnel includes Don Cherry, Scott La Faro, Billy Higgins in one quartet and Eric Dolphy, Freddie Hubbard, Charlie Haden and Ed Blackwell in the other. After several hearings I conclude that there are no grounds for comparison. Lennie's and Ornette's concepts of group improvisation are diametrically opposed. Lennie's intention is to meld five musicians into one player with ten hands. The integration and unity achieved is so remarkable that had "Intuition" and "Digression" been written out beforehand and not spontaneously composed, the two pieces would still rank as the most exhilarating six minutes in 20th century chamber music. (As is well known, the free improvisations originally totaled about twelve minutes, but an "engineer" who disliked the result erased half of it. Anyone know his name? I'd like to erase six very important minutes in his life.) On the other hand, were Ornette's improvisation for double quartet, which is 37 minutes long, transcribed onto paper and performed, it would rank very low in terms of unity of conception. But here's what's extraordinary. Unity is precisely what Ornette is determined to avoid since it's his contention--which I infer from the music-- that the temptation to chime in with others emasculates the soloist's individuality by hindering his effort to express his natural originality. Consequently, whenever the players fall into a groove (which takes the form of brief bouts of lively, atonal Dixieland), the enjoyment is cut short and suddenly we're back in shared solitary confinement. So why play together at all? Because Ornette wants to collectively improvise without compromising the individual solo. "The most important thing," Ornette is quoted in the notes as saying, "was for us to play together, all at the same time, without getting in each other's way, and also to have enough room for each player to ad lib alone--and to follow this idea for the duration of the album. When the soloist played something that suggested a musical idea or direction to me, I played that behind him in my style. He continued his own way in his solo, of course." I think it's strongly implied here that by playing together Ornette mostly means playing at the same time but not necessarily in such a way as to spontaneously integrate the solos into a unified composition. For Ornette's fear is that striving for a too tightly integrated unity will undermine the freedom and independence of the soloists.

Whereas in the early days Lennie encouraged his students to emulate his own style of improvisation (which hardly required much coaxing so seductive was it), Ornette proceeds in the opposite direction in order to confirm the uncompromising individuality of each of his players. It's a matter of Lennie's all for one and one for all versus Ornette's to each his own but all together. And while there's no excuse for critics to fail to acknowledge Lennie's priority, it's understandable why Ornette might not wish to do so. For to acknowledge Lennie in any way except by pointing out the irreconcilable differences between them would force Ornette to come out in the open and admit that he is willing to defend the freedom and independence of the soloist even at the cost of disintegrating the music.
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View user's profile Send private message

This is a great album, but as other reviewers have noted, Ornette has done better. For example, his colloboration with Pat Metheny, Song X, is far more adventurous, intense, and powerful. This was a groundbreaking album in its day, and it's still really good. The liner notes from the original LP said that Ornette and his double quartet went into the studio, jammed for 37 minutes and 3 seconds, recorded it, and left the studio. The fact that there is a track called "First Take" (literally, a first take of Free Jazz) shows that this is false. Ornette's music was composed for the most part before the improvisation started. Ornette is an amazing musician, and this album is great, but there are better albums by him (Song X, The Shape of Jazz To Come, Change of the Century, and Chappaqua Suite).

First total free album in jazz history. But there are better Coleman's albums. This album is not too convincing. Company from this session is not in their best form. For example Coltrane '64-67 period albums are much better in gravity, cleric and value sides.

While Coleman titled his most famous album The Shape of Jazz to Come, this is really where he threw down the gauntlet, challenging all comers to make something more unique than this. And few had the guts to accept the challenge - this was 1960, after all. I don't think even Eric Dolphy had made the complete jump to avant-garde yet back then. And the critics laughed at Ornette. Fast forward five years, where John Coltrane had taken a cue from Ornette's albm-length masterpiece, putting out his (Ascension). Who's laughing now?
It goes without saying that, even some 47 years onward, it's still tough to find a point of comparison to Free Jazz. Coltrane had done the difficult album-length work with Ascension, but this is a whole different animal than Ascension. Hell, this manages to be even free - the original is usually the best, after all.
Now here's something for you jazz fans to meditate on. This album consists of two different quartets playing two entirely different things on each channel. So if you put the balance entirely on the left speaker, you'll hear one band, and if you choose to balance to the right, you'll hear another. For all practical purpose, you're hearing two songs at the same time. I suppose "song" is a loose definition, since structure's been entirely abandonded. Ditching structure is a risky business, but here it's cool by me. Why? Because the performances, besides being completely revolutionary, are simply stellar. Outstanding. A cut above the rest.
Again, who was doing anything like this in 1960? Trane and countless "progressive rock" bands tried the album-length piece thing, but none of their releases could measure up (though Ascension comes close). And the Velvet Underground - more indebtted to free jazz than one who hasn't heard their first two albums would think - had twice experimented with feeding two completely different things through both speaker channels, but it took them seven years to even consider that. And the truth of the matter is that free jazz would never again be this spontaneous. Out of the handful of Coleman records I've heard, I'll have to give this one the edge. Highly recommended, but only for those looking for something completely different. If Kenny G's your idea of "jazz", you need not apply.

yeah, i really like what happens in the 14th minute of Free Jazz

Neglectful of the Tristano experiments carried out in the late 1940s, music critics generally credit Ornette Coleman with the invention of free jazz. So, curious about how Ornette's effort stacks up against Lennie's, I acquired "Free Jazz: A Collective Improvisation by the Ornette Coleman Double Quartet." The album was recorded in 1960 and released by Atlantic in 1961. Besides Ornette the personnel includes Don Cherry, Scott La Faro, Billy Higgins in one quartet and Eric Dolphy, Freddie Hubbard, Charlie Haden and Ed Blackwell in the other. After several hearings I conclude that there are no grounds for comparison. Lennie's and Ornette's concepts of group improvisation are diametrically opposed. Lennie's intention is to meld five musicians into one player with ten hands. The integration and unity achieved is so remarkable that had "Intuition" and "Digression" been written out beforehand and not spontaneously composed, the two pieces would still rank as the most exhilarating six minutes in 20th century chamber music. (As is well known, the free improvisations originally totaled about twelve minutes, but an "engineer" who disliked the result erased half of it. Anyone know his name? I'd like to erase six very important minutes in his life.) On the other hand, were Ornette's improvisation for double quartet, which is 37 minutes long, transcribed onto paper and performed, it would rank very low in terms of unity of conception. But here's what's extraordinary. Unity is precisely what Ornette is determined to avoid since it's his contention--which I infer from the music-- that the temptation to chime in with others emasculates the soloist's individuality by hindering his effort to express his natural originality. Consequently, whenever the players fall into a groove (which takes the form of brief bouts of lively, atonal Dixieland), the enjoyment is cut short and suddenly we're back in shared solitary confinement. So why play together at all? Because Ornette wants to collectively improvise without compromising the individual solo. "The most important thing," Ornette is quoted in the notes as saying, "was for us to play together, all at the same time, without getting in each other's way, and also to have enough room for each player to ad lib alone--and to follow this idea for the duration of the album. When the soloist played something that suggested a musical idea or direction to me, I played that behind him in my style. He continued his own way in his solo, of course." I think it's strongly implied here that by playing together Ornette mostly means playing at the same time but not necessarily in such a way as to spontaneously integrate the solos into a unified composition. For Ornette's fear is that striving for a too tightly integrated unity will undermine the freedom and independence of the soloists.

Whereas in the early days Lennie encouraged his students to emulate his own style of improvisation (which hardly required much coaxing so seductive was it), Ornette proceeds in the opposite direction in order to confirm the uncompromising individuality of each of his players. It's a matter of Lennie's all for one and one for all versus Ornette's to each his own but all together. And while there's no excuse for critics to fail to acknowledge Lennie's priority, it's understandable why Ornette might not wish to do so. For to acknowledge Lennie in any way except by pointing out the irreconcilable differences between them would force Ornette to come out in the open and admit that he is willing to defend the freedom and independence of the soloist even at the cost of disintegrating the music.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message

This is a great album, but as other reviewers have noted, Ornette has done better. For example, his colloboration with Pat Metheny, Song X, is far more adventurous, intense, and powerful. This was a groundbreaking album in its day, and it's still really good. The liner notes from the original LP said that Ornette and his double quartet went into the studio, jammed for 37 minutes and 3 seconds, recorded it, and left the studio. The fact that there is a track called "First Take" (literally, a first take of Free Jazz) shows that this is false. Ornette's music was composed for the most part before the improvisation started. Ornette is an amazing musician, and this album is great, but there are better albums by him (Song X, The Shape of Jazz To Come, Change of the Century, and Chappaqua Suite).

First total free album in jazz history. But there are better Coleman's albums. This album is not too convincing. Company from this session is not in their best form. For example Coltrane '64-67 period albums are much better in gravity, cleric and value sides.

While Coleman titled his most famous album The Shape of Jazz to Come, this is really where he threw down the gauntlet, challenging all comers to make something more unique than this. And few had the guts to accept the challenge - this was 1960, after all. I don't think even Eric Dolphy had made the complete jump to avant-garde yet back then. And the critics laughed at Ornette. Fast forward five years, where John Coltrane had taken a cue from Ornette's albm-length masterpiece, putting out his (Ascension). Who's laughing now?
It goes without saying that, even some 47 years onward, it's still tough to find a point of comparison to Free Jazz. Coltrane had done the difficult album-length work with Ascension, but this is a whole different animal than Ascension. Hell, this manages to be even free - the original is usually the best, after all.
Now here's something for you jazz fans to meditate on. This album consists of two different quartets playing two entirely different things on each channel. So if you put the balance entirely on the left speaker, you'll hear one band, and if you choose to balance to the right, you'll hear another. For all practical purpose, you're hearing two songs at the same time. I suppose "song" is a loose definition, since structure's been entirely abandonded. Ditching structure is a risky business, but here it's cool by me. Why? Because the performances, besides being completely revolutionary, are simply stellar. Outstanding. A cut above the rest.
Again, who was doing anything like this in 1960? Trane and countless "progressive rock" bands tried the album-length piece thing, but none of their releases could measure up (though Ascension comes close). And the Velvet Underground - more indebtted to free jazz than one who hasn't heard their first two albums would think - had twice experimented with feeding two completely different things through both speaker channels, but it took them seven years to even consider that. And the truth of the matter is that free jazz would never again be this spontaneous. Out of the handful of Coleman records I've heard, I'll have to give this one the edge. Highly recommended, but only for those looking for something completely different. If Kenny G's your idea of "jazz", you need not apply.

yeah, i really like what happens in the 14th minute of Free Jazz