By Samuel J Fell, Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen and John Shand
JAZZ
John Coltrane
BOTH DIRECTIONS AT ONCE – THE LOST SESSIONS (Impulse!)
★★★★½
Fifty-five years ago the most explosive band in jazz history trooped into their favourite studio and recorded an album that was never released. Until now. Both Directions at Once – The Lost album is almost a holy relic, blessed with some sensational music, sound quality to match, and even four previously unheard compositions by the towering saxophonist that was John Coltrane.
The John Coltrane Quartet, jazz's most explosive band, records at Rudy Van Gelder's legendary studio.
On March 6, 1963, his "classic quartet" with pianist McCoy Tyner, bassist Jimmy Garrison and drummer Elvin Jones, was coming to the end of a two-week residency at New York's Birdland. They drove out to Rudy Van Gelder's New Jersey studio for a five-hour session, before having to race back to Manhattan for their evening gig. If there was any pressure in the air you don't hear it. You hear a band at home in its own skin; one already acclaimed for its crushing potency, yet still 21 months away from recording its ultimate masterpiece, A Love Supreme.
The recording falls four months after the band's final session for the Ballads album and the day before cutting John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman. From the duration of the material (47 minutes) it seems the clear intent was to record an album, rather than just lay down a few tracks. Hence the new material, some of which had been aired during the Birdland residency.
Because the putative album was not released Coltrane never named the originals, which are delineated by Impulse's numbering system. A bucking, pitching minor blues taken on soprano, 11383, has a rare arco-to-pizzicato solo from Garrison. The airier 11386 has the sort of soprano solo that, were it light rather than sound, would blind you, behind which Tyner lays out, while Jones divides the groove between Latin and swing feels, and Garrison again features. Designated Slow Blues for obvious reasons, 11388 has Tyner again sitting out behind an extended tenor solo that uses shifting densities as primary building blocks. The pianist's own sprightly solo beckons the rhythm section to double the time, which they maintain when 'Trane returns, although you sense some crossed purposes in the restatement of the head. Christened One Up, One Down (a corollary to the later One Down, One Up) by Coltrane's son Ravi (the album's co-producer), 11387 is a storming tenor piece with features from Jones and Garrison. The one regular item from the live repertoire is a typically scintillating Impressions, which sounds oddly abridged when one is used to the live extravaganzas.
The two non-originals are a moody, piano-less Nature Boy on tenor over an intriguing groove (which, at less than 3½ minutes, feels like an experiment that was not pursued), and, almost as light relief, Franz Lehar's Vilia, which has Tyner at his most gorgeously lyrical. The deluxe edition contains a second album with alternate takes of most tracks.
The set's defining attributes include the striking warmth of Garrison's bass sound, which is featured more prominently than usual both as a solo instrument and in the ensemble mix. Another is how often Tyner lays out to let the majesty and testifying rapture of Coltrane's tenor and soprano saxophones command the foreground against the high-voltage undercurrent of Jones's impossibly swinging drumming.
So how did this treasure come to be "lost" for all those years? The tape from which it was mastered turned up in the possession of the family of Coltrane's first wife, Naima, with whom, even after their divorce, he continued to share his new recordings. As to why Impulse never released it at the time, I can only suggest they may have been keen to prioritise the broad commercial appeal of the album recorded the next day with Hartman, and by the time another studio release was due, Coltrane may have felt the quartet had moved on from this phase.
Four years ago a hitherto unknown live Coltrane recording, Offering, emerged amid much fanfare (including from this writer), but that, with its patchy sound, is of a different order to this, performed by a band approaching its artistic pinnacle, and recorded by the doyen of engineers. Don't hesitate. JOHN SHAND
COUNTRY
Catherine Britt
CATHERINE BRITT & THE CD HEARTS (ABC/Universal)
★★★½
Catherine Britt knows country music, and her seventh studio record bristles with the fact. Instrumentation courtesy of Michael Muchow, Andy Toombs and Australian legend Bill Chambers lends it the earthy sound integral to the genre, while Britt's unique voice commands attention, vying with banjo and guitars to conjure a sound that's as much Nashville as Tamworth. Where Britt shines, however, is in her ability to capture a sense of Australia – its wide and brown expanses, its flora and fauna, its foibles and fortunes – without resorting to song-writing or cultural cliches (something to which too much Australian country music falls victim). Britt is obviously singing directly from the heart on this record too, and given what she's gone through in recent years, this isn't surprising: a serious health issue, an extremely full professional plate and a new member of the family. This album is about the happiness beyond the storm, and as such truly resonates with a realism many struggle to attain. Recorded in her backyard studio in Newcastle, it's Britt's reunion with her roots: a solid mix of the mainstream and the underground. SAMUEL J FELL
FOLK
Bob Dylan
LIVE 1962–1966 (Sony)
★★★
These days, Bob Dylan is infamously irregular live. The legendary songwriter chops and changes his material so much on stage that it is sometimes unrecognisable – a fact that delights some fans and grates on others. Coinciding with an Australian tour, this new double-album of rare live cuts is a time machine to the stripped-back days, when Dylan's live performances were faithful reproductions of his studio work. You can hear the progression towards rock as the chronological compilation ambles on, but the heart of it is an acoustic guitar, a gravelly voice and folky words of wisdom. Most of it was recorded in the US and Britain, but Dylan's first-ever Australian show is also represented through a 1966 version of Desolation Row captured at the old Sydney Stadium. From the classics (The Times They Are A-Changin', Blowin' in the Wind, Don't Think Twice, It's All Right) to a few rarer cuts, this collection spans much of Dylan's '60s catalogue. These recordings won't surprise you and aren't a must-have, but they do provide a neat historical snapshot of a cultural icon's ascent to stardom, and will please die-hard fans. GISELLE AU-NHIEN NGUYEN