It was probably the summer of 96 that I first started wondering about free jazz. I was working a dead-end job and found myself at a nearby used record store on a regular basis, picking up cassettes cheap and enjoying myself. Somehow I found myself listening to Phish, a fact I'm not proud to recall these days, though their earlier albums were so much more about musicality than vibes and I was understandably taken away. I hadn't really understood the joy of making music for the purpose of making music prior to that and listening to the Junta album woke me up, what with the fact there were songs and there was form but there was also plenty of room for whatever they wanted to do, regardless of need, want or assumed rules of music. It was really incredible to lose myself in that world, though I always had a way of doing things backwards and, upon reading about Surrender To The Air, Trey Anastasio's free-jazz supergroup featuring members of Sun Ra's Arkestra and other luminaries of the improvised music scene, I found a CD of it for five dollars or less and decided to take the plunge. Initially I was thoroughly confused by it, not being able to make heads or tails of what was occurring, but after a few listens a logic of sorts seemed to become apparent and I enjoyed it more, though it never got beyond that as I simply had no want to listen to it. In retrospect, I don't think it was very good, but I haven't listened to it in years so my recollection is understandably skewed. Nonetheless, that experience opened some doors for me and I began listening to Zappa and Miles shortly thereafter, eventually exploring Coltrane, Monk and all kinds of other jazz geniuses while looking for my musical island to rest upon.
My thinking there was a musical landscape that would satisfy me was foolish, but at that age I suppose it was only right of me to assume it, and if I hadn't kept on looking I would never have discovered that it's better to be rootless than to stay in one place musically for an eternity. So that musical island, or whatever I imagined it was, is now forgotten and I suppose I'm like a rudderless ship, following wherever the oceanic muse takes me, and while I can find my way to points of familiarity and sometimes take extended stays there, when the spirit moves me I can flow with it.
Forgive the above cheese, but that's the only way I could think to preface this. A year or two ago I was on a business trip and stopped into a record shop that I always enjoyed visiting when in that area. They carried a large selection of new and used vinyl, much of it being rather obscure, as well as an excellent selection of difficult to obtain CDs and used merchandise. When I entered they were playing a Donna Summer record, and I do mean a record. It was a title I hadn't heard before, and it escapes me at the moment, but I was impressed enough to ask how much they wanted for it. At a few dollars I couldn't pass it up, so I grabbed it and some interesting CDs, paid for everything and waited for the record to end. While they took it off the turntable, someone cued up some mind-obliteratingly intense free-jazz. My head swiveled and I realized, in extreme disappointment, that whatever I had just purchased held no candle to this noise coming from the speakers. I asked what it was and they showed me the sleeve for Dewey Redman's The Ear Of The Behearer. I didn't have any more cash and an exchange was out of the question, but I asked what the price was anyway. It wasn't all that expensive at twenty dollars but the jig was up, I didn't have any more money to blow, so I stood in the store for another five minutes, listening, until I knew I had to leave and decided I'd find a copy when I made it home. That wasn't as easy as I thought it would be though.
I checked local record shops but no one had a copy on CD or vinyl. The CD was out of print. It wasn't available digitally at that time. I checked in the usual places and couldn't find a rip of it. Eventually a kind soul provided me with a rip of the 98 CD reissue, but it would merely tide me over until I improved upon it's status. Eventually I found a lossless rip of 98 CD reissue but I couldn't find the vinyl for the life of me, so I bought the official MP3s and burnt that lossless rip to a CD for home use. My girlfriend hated me instantly. Dewey plugged into that zone, somewhere between utter chaos and beautifully off kilter melodicism, that instantly grabbed me and took me for a ride. It wasn't the type of thing I could listen to constantly, but his chaos could ground me when necessary. It's music to think to, allowing my mind to focus on whatever should be in front of me while also venturing off into the music or anything else that should come my way. Nothing about it needs to be spelled out, I can ponder their inspiration or I can just follow along, and it just keeps branching out wherever it chooses to, always showing something new. PS is so mournful yet utterly confused, like the soundtrack to some kind of nightmare that started off terrifying yet became more fascinating to explore than run from. Walls-Bridges is like a call to alarm but you have no idea what you're running from, blurring along the way into schizophrenia. The beautiful Boody starts off like a fighters theme before delving into a fully formed, drunken blues groove. Image begins with bagpipes into battle with bass lines, like some kind of understated warfare. The whole thing could be people beating the shit out of each other or just kids playing at the park. It's beautiful.
I'll openly admit that I haven't explored Redman's discography in much depth since finding The Ear Of The Behearer, though I haven't found much need to yet. I'm sure I'll eventually dig in, but I'm still held captive by the insanity and freedom surrounding these recordings. I did listen to an unreleased set of recordings from 1969 though, including early versions of Interconnection and PS, that was fantasticly energetic, retaining the loose structure while featuring more melody and rhythm. All in all, incredible stuff.
I'm including The Ear Of The Behearer and the Unissued '69 Session for download here, but if you enjoy Behearer I implore you to purchase it digitally at Amazon or any other digital retailer that carries it. Besides, the version of the album I'm posting is the original seven track version, and the version available for digital purchase includes four bonus tracks from that era. As for the '69 Session, if there is enough interest I'll post it in lossless format, but for now I'm putting up V0 MP3s of both. If you enjoy free, formless, shape changing music, you'll love these recordings. Enjoy.
Dewey Redman - The Ear Of The Behearer
01 Interconnection
02 Immani
03 Walls-Bridges
04 PS
05 Boody
06 Sunlanding
07 Image (In Disguise)
Personnel:
Dewey Redman - alto and tenor saxophone
Ted Daniel - trumpet and Moroccan bugle
Jane Robertson - cello
Sirone - bass
Eddie Moore - drums, gong, saw and timpani
Danny Johnson - percussion
Dewey Redman - Unissued '69 Session
01 Apple-itis
02 Interconnection
03 PS
04 Look For The Black Star
05 Look For The Black Star (Alternate Take)
Regarding the '69 Session, here is some information that came with the lossless files:
Personnel:
Dewey Redman - alto sax, musette
Chris Capers - trumpet
Bob Cunningham - bass
Ed Blackwell, Rashied Ali, Eddie Moore - drums
Recorded: December 19, 1969, NYC for Blue Note
NOTE: The alternate take of Look For The Black Star ends abruptly so it may be incomplete. My apologies if this is the case.
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