Nuclear War

Here's Yo La Tengo in 2002 covering Sun Ra's 1984 composition.  Vocals and percussion are by Ira Kaplan, Georgia Hubley and James McNew, and the backing vocals are by their kids and family August Kaplan, Hillary Hubley, and Isaac Hubley, along with Claire Hill, Stephen Hill, Erin Schwartz, Eufemia Vercillo, Isabel Ramirez, Leila Rosenthal, Max Rosenthal, and Sophie Rick.

I saw Sun Ra perform this piece one night in 1984 at Atlanta's now-defunct Moonshadow Saloon, It blew my mind that night as much as hearing Yo La Tengo having their way with it does now. However, I don't recall too much else now about that boozy night at the Moonshadow other than Nuclear War and the sheer thrill of sharing a barroom with Sun Ra and the Arkestra.

I've actually been fortunate enough to have seen Sun Ra in New York and Boston multiple times during the period of approximately 1974 to 1980, including an epic five-night residency in Boston's Orpheum Theater, as well as less frequently in the 80s and on up until he left this plane of existence in 1993.  

I even got to meet him in real life a couple of times, once on the subway in New York and another time coming out of a matinee screening of Invasion of the Body Snatchers in Boston.  We didn't exactly have conversations on those occasions (although I'm sure that there is much that he could have taught me) other than my acknowledging that he was indeed Sun Ra, but let me say this - the man was always in character.

Yo La Tengo are heavily influenced by Sun Ra, and they named their classic album And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out after a Sun Ra quote ("At first, there was nothingness, and then nothingness turned itself inside out.").  Not that there aren't a lot of other bands out there with Sun Ra influences, ranging from NRBQ to Akron/Family. 

I actually meant to talk here about nuclear war (I'm against it), but there's no way that I'm going to post about Sun Ra and his music without including something by the man himself.  There's no date on this video, but I'm going to guess it's sometime between 1972 to 1976 just by the appearance of things.  This is really, seriously, what his shows were like back then, with the dancers, the singers, the free improvisations, and the sing-along sermons.  So without further to-do, I'm just going to assume that you're against nuclear war, too, and let Sun Ra himself get in the last words.  

Sun Ra, Explained

I've tried to explain Birmingham, Alabama-born Sun Ra before, most notably here, and his music still crops up in my listening, such as this example, but who better to discuss and describe his legacy than members of the Arkestra itself? Boys and girls, here's an instructive and educational video film on Space and the Music of the Omniverse.  

Points On A Space Age is a 2009 documentary by Ephrahaim Asili. It's a 60-minute doc along the lines of the talking-head-intercut-with-performance-clips style. It works because of the interesting and passionate nature of the images of the band as well as of the audio, as the band attempts to articulate what Ra meant to them, and why they are keeping the flame alive. 

Bassoonist/multireedist James Jacson had studied Zen Buddhism before joining Sun Ra and identified strong similarities between Zen teachings and practices (particularly Zen koans) and Ra's use of non sequiturs and seemingly absurd replies to questions.  Drummer Art Jenkins admitted that Sun Ra's "nonsense" sometimes troubled his thoughts for days until inspiring a sort of paradigm shift, or profound change in outlook. Drummer Andrew Cyrille said Sun Ra's comments were "very interesting stuff … whether you believed it or not. And a lot of times it was humorous, and a lot of times it was ridiculous, and a lot of times it was right on the money."  

Massachusetts Governor Deval Patrick is the son of Sun Ra baritone saxophonist Pat Patrick.

Sun Ra left the earth for his next mission in 1993. The remnants of the band include Marshall Allen, Ra’s greatest disciple and current bandleader and keeper of the flame. Now 86, Allen also serves as recruiter for new members, and potential converts of Sun Ra’s philosophy, once based on space travel and music as a tool for evolution into a new consciousness and tuning into holy vibrations.

All music, without exception, is a direct expression of the buddha dharma.

Dave Brubeck

Innovative jazzman Dave Brubeck passed today at the age of 91, just one day short of what would have been his 92nd birthday.

During a period of the 1970s, between, say, the demise of "progressive rock" and the advent of punk, when  disco, mellow California pop, and Stevie Nicks ruled the airwaves, I very nearly stopped listening to rock music altogether and retreated into a world of jazz.  I was amazed at the richness and variety of this American art form that was largely ignored by the American public.  Coltrane, Miles, Mingus, and Monk became my new John, George, Paul, and Ringo, and as I went further down the rabbit hole of the avant garde, Shepp, Pharoah, Braxton, and Sun Ra became my new Coltrane, Miles, Mingus, and Monk. Speaking of Monk, though, there's a link to a great, nearly half-hour performance by Monk in all of his eccentric genius at the end of the Brubeck clip above.

Somewhere in the background of all this great music, though, there was always the Dave Brubeck Quartet.  They weren't my favorites, and I don't think I ever owned an album of theirs, although I had managed to accumulate a fairly prodigious collection of vinyl.  They were cool and cerebral, and my interests in jazz leaned more toward the visceral and the emotive.  No disrespect toward the departed today or the living back then, but it simply wasn't my thing.

I always did have an appreciation, though, for the playing of Brubeck's alto saxophonist, Paul Desmond.  In 1977, at the height of my jazz enthusiasm, Desmond died of lung cancer, the result of chronic chain smoking.  He was 52 when he passed, and I remember thinking that he was an old man then, even though I'm older than that now.

In any event, at some point around the rise of late 70s punk and the emergence of New Wave, rock music got interesting again.  At the same time, the number of musicians playing music that could legitimately be called jazz had already started to diminish due to sickness, old age, and death, as well as to the economics of the music industry.  I still appreciate jazz and my musical tastes today are informed and influenced by the freedom and creativity I encountered in jazz, but rather than listen and re-listen to the same old recordings over and over, I continue to explore the new and the different, just like Brubeck had during his lifetime.