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Wildflowers : The New York Loft Jazz Sessions
by Scott Hreha
June 2000
When originally issued by Douglas, the 5-LP Wildflowers: The New
York Loft Jazz Sessions stepped into a virtual void of free jazz.
Impulse, the lasting champion of labels willing to risk their budgets
on free jazz artists, had already given up on what was a steadily
dwindling release program by 1975. Besides the then-fledgling Black
Saint label, Arista's cautious dabbling (with its Novus series and
Anthony Braxton's contract) and the handful of artist-run labels still
in the game, free jazz had become an even scarcer commodity in the
United States' post-Vietnam depression.
But the Wildflowers LPs weren't only a bucket of cold water
to the free jazz economy—they also just happened to document
nearly all of the important US-based players of the era. Between those
still surviving in New York from the 60s (Sunny Murray, Marion Brown,
Dave Burrell, Andrew Cyrille, Jimmy Lyons), recent transplants from
Chicago's AACM (Braxton, Air) and St. Louis' BAG (Oliver Lake, Julius
Hemphill) collectives and a handful of young up-and-comers (David
Murray, Ahmed Abdullah, David S. Ware), the set provided a comprehensive
overview of what was currently happening in the music.
 Recorded
as snapshots of a festival hosted at Sam Rivers' loft Studio Rivbea
in May of 1976, the LPs captured a sort of grassroots energy that,
considered today, can be seen as the early roots of an artist-centered
aesthetic in New York that has evolved into more frequent engagements
like the Vision Festival. Yet all politics and lineage-tracing aside,
the reissue of the Wildflowers set—jammed onto three
very full CDs by the Knitting Factory's Knit Classics subsidiary—returns
some particularly valuable music to the non-collector marketplace.
From the first disc's opening track "Jays", the notable changes that
were beginning to take place in the music are apparent as Kalaparusha
(Maurice McIntyre) gets his tenor mojo working over a super-funky
electric bass-driven groove. As has been discussed in other assessments
of this collection, "free jazz" was beginning to incorporate the more
palatable elements of its otherwise sworn enemy "jazz fusion" with
distinctive results—Kalaparusha's track being a prime illustration
of that hybridity. However, the rest of the disc features more classic
expressions of the art form with varying degrees of structure: for
example, Ken McIntyre's wily alto negotiates the angles of his "New
Times" with edgy purpose, while Sunny Murray's killer Untouchable
Factor group (w/Byard Lancaster and David Murray on reeds, Khan Jamal
on vibes and Fred Hopkins on bass) explores "Over the Rainbow" on
the strength of Lancaster's gorgeously emotive vibrato. Continuing
the theme, Sam Rivers' "Rainbows" is one of his finest recordings—capturing
the saxophonist blowing his trademark soprano streams over a highly
sympathetic rhythm section. The rest of the disc's highlights can
be found in tracks by Air ("USO Dance", which exemplifies the combination
of sensitivity and fire that made them one of the finest jazz trios
of the decade), Flight to Sanity ("The Need to Smile", a stunningly
organic Afro-modal affair in which Sonelius Smith's piano joins with
the dynamic percussion of Harold Smith and Don Moye in bluesy communion)
and Marion Brown (a solo alto performance of "And Then They Danced",
where his combination of lyricality and rough edges enhance the ballad's
inherent sweetness).
The second disc extends the polemic between structure-oriented, fusion-tinged
and free blowing pieces, with the structuralists claiming a significant
majority of the space. The chamber-like obtusity of Leo Smith and
New Delta Ahkri's "Locomotif No. 6", the stiff flamenco-folk convolution
of Michael Jackson's "Clarity 2", the hard Chicago blues of Hamiet
Bluiett's "Tranquil Beauty" and the pretty layers and sugary resolution
of Julius Hemphill's "Pensive" all suffer from a tight compositional
stricture that even dwarfs the moments of brilliant playing (like
Bluiett's bluesy baritone abyss on "Beauty" and guitarist Bern Nix's
gelling harmolodic runs on the Hemphill piece). Ahmed Abdullah's "Blue
Phase" is this disc's fusion experiment—very successfully combining
electric and acoustic basses in a murky bottom end, but unfortunately
losing out in the mix to Mashujaa's heavily effected, watery guitar
(though, interestingly enough, his tone here is actually reminiscent
of the phase-shifted sound prevalent among reggae guitarists of the
day). The disc's lone representative of freer boundaries, Andrew Cyrille
and Maono's rather directionless "Short Short," is also a disappointment—though
that may have more to do with the excerpter's scalpel than the musicians
themselves.
The third disc also contains its share of what seems like research
gone awry—like Oliver Lake's "Zaki" (which is inhibited by the
relentless hovering of Michael Jackson's strangely synthesized guitar)
and Roscoe Mitchell's "Chant" (an exercise in marathon circular breathing
that walks the line between exhilarating and annoying)—but at
the same time houses a couple of the collection's most outstanding
selections. One of these, Jimmy Lyons' "Push Pull", builds a blocky
yet intuitive marvel out of angular alto strokes, minimal percussion
and Karen Borca's rich, woodsy bassoon. The other highlight of the
third disc, and perhaps the entire set, is the return of Sunny Murray
and the Untouchable Factor for the 17-minute "Something's Cookin'".
Beginning as a fragile web supported by Murray's cymbal whispers,
the mood expands through the otherworldly plateaus spun by Jamal's
vibes and a kinetic tenor/alto dialogue between Murray and Lancaster—only
to finish on the spiritual edge where Hopkins' bowed levitations meet
Lancaster's primordial flute.
Beyond all of this music—which, even with the few unsuccessful
pieces adds up to nothing less than essential—adding to the
collection's value is the set's booklet with archival photographs,
poster reproductions and critic Howard Mandel's historical/contextual
essay on the loft scene and its greater significance. No self-respecting
listener of free jazz should go without hearing these sessions, as
they document a period in the music's history that, until now, has
been severely neglected.
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