A Classic, Expanded
Some thoughts on the new record John Coltrane - A Love Supreme: Live In Seattle
A Love Supreme: Live in Seattle - John Coltrane (Impulse, 2021)
The thing about this record is it’s technically what it’s billed as, but it’s also much different that what an unsuspecting listening might expect. It’s a great listen, but it’s a little challenging at times. And, true to form, it’s a very John Coltrane record.
In 1964, Coltrane released A Love Supreme, a record often taken to be his masterwork. It’s something of a touchstone for jazz fans, both hardcore and casual. Going from it’s simple, but instantly distinctive bass intro to the way Coltrane takes his sax out of his mouth and begins to chant, it’s a record that’s compelling and trailblazing: this ain’t Kind of Blue, this is a spiritual quest, a dweller on the threshold. It opened the door for a whole genre of “spiritual jazz,” the kind of records that Alice Coltrane, Pharoah Sanders and John McLaughlin would make a career out of: long, probing solos that reach a frenzied climax, like something out of a reivival tent. Indeed, McLaughin and Carlos Santana took this to it’s logical extreme in the early 70s, when they toured together and would each just play the shit out of their instruments; this is documented, in part, on Love, Devotion Surrender, a record with weird cult overtones and a hell of a lot of guitar frenzy.
Back to Coltrane. He was never one to rest on his laurels. This is the guy who created a jazz standard in “Giant Steps” and just as quickly dropped it from his live setlists. The guy who took “My Favourite Things” and would stretch it out for close to an hour, drawing every note out of the song and turning it into something powerful and almost meditative. And, until this live record came out, was thought to have only played A Love Supreme a handful of times in concert - and pretty close to the record, at that.
In this sense, A Love Supreme: Live In Seattle is a landmark release. It has the classic Coltrane lineup - Elvin Jones, McCoy Tyner, Jimmy Garrison - but augmented by Pharoah Sanders, bassist Donald Garrett and alto sax player Carlos Ward. And augmented is the key word here: this isn’t a faithful reproduction, a lithograph of a record. Here, the band stretches out for over an hour, taking extended solos and pushing this suite to it’s limits.
The sound is a little muddled at times, and it’s got a weird mix to listen to on headphones, with the sax pushed over to one channel. I imagine it’s faithful to the original tape - thank you Mr. Brazil for taking care of this for so long and making it available - but one wishes it’d been remixed into mono and made the horns a little easier to pick out. Indeed, with three horn players, I’m a little reluctant to attempt to pick out who’s taking what solo; I’ll just say that all of them - but especially the one on “Part Two” - are compelling and show a special band at their best. The solos build up, the percussion drives and pushes the players harder and further.
The interludes are key to this record. They show how the music was adapted live, the way it evolved from a record into something that could fill a whole set. “Interlude 2,” for example, is an extended percussion solo, a chance for Jones to shine and show off his skills behind the set. But it also works as a transition from one set price to another, in the way his solo slowly builds and rises the tension for a good five minutes before the band kicks back in with a slowly winding horn passage and then into a stuttering, screeching horn solo.
If there’s an MVP to this record, it might not be Coltrane, even though his playing sounds like the voice of God at times. Instead it’s Tyner, who’s chords keep the music from straying too far, provide a propulsive thrust and, when he stretches out on “Part Three” show him as a tasteful and melodic soloist, taking stabs here and there, running up and down his keyboard. Although he never quite hits the frantic highs of Coltrane or Sanders, his playing is what glues this group together, keeping the rhythm section tied to the melody, but keeping the soloing from hitting the frenzied extremes Coltrane would stretch out to just a short while later.
And indeed, maybe those later records are a good comparison point for this one. Live in Japan is four CDs of Coltrane (and a later group with Alice Coltrane, Sanders and a new rhythm section) pushing deep into extremes, taking the music as far as it’d go. There, the group would play the same song for 45 minutes, an hour, or longer, stretching the melody out until it was almost unrecognizable. Here, the music is more restrained - albeit slightly - but it’s still being taken to new lengths, pushed into new and unexplored territory. If an earlier live record like Live at the Half Note shows this band on an average night, this one shows Coltrane and company on a special night, one where they were augmented by a set of similarly minded and sympathetic players. It’s a keeper, and a contender for best historical issue of the year - only the Roy Brooks/Woody Shaw record Understanding competes with it.
But where does it fit in among the suddenly enlarged Coltrane catalogue? It’s easily more essential than Blue World, which is essentially a soundtrack, and it shows the growth of a band on stage in a way that Both Directions At Once could only suggest from it’s studio vantage point. It’s a stronger record than Live In Seattle, and more engaging than Live at the Half Note. It’s not a replacement for the studio version of A Love Supreme, but that record is just about perfect. It’s best to think of this as something to listen to in tandem, once you’ve explored that record and gotten into its nooks and crannies. This one, way more than the live version issued on the deluxe reissue of A Love Supreme back almost two decades ago, builds on the original and shows how it was expanded upon and grew in a live setting.