Two essential early 60s release from famed UK saxophonist Joe Harriott, an innovator bringing free jazz concepts to the British audience with his quintet of Shake Kane on trumpet & flugelhorn, Pat Smythe on piano, Coleridge Goode on double bass and Phil Seaman on drums, referencing the new forms of jazz from US artists like Don Cherry and Ornette Coleman.
Label: ezz-thetics by Hat Hut Records Ltd Catalog ID: ezz-thetics 2-1121 Squidco Product Code: 30779
Format: 2 CDs Condition: New Released: 2021 Country: Switzerland Packaging: Cardboard Gatefold CD 1 recorded in London, England, on November 23rd and 30th, 1960, by Adrian Kerridge.
CD 2 recorded in London, England, on November 22nd, 1961, and May 10th, 1962.
Free Form originally released in the US & Europe in 1961 on vinyl LP by the JAZZLAND label with catalog code JLP 49. Abstract originally released in 1963 in the UK as a vinyl LP on the Columbia label with catalog code 33SX 1477, and in the US on Capitol Records with catalog code ST 10351.
"In August 1965, Ornette Coleman came to the United Kingdom and played a concert that combined a hastily confected piece for wind quintet - a quote on visiting American jazz musicians meant he had to switch coats and come as a composer rather than a mere improviser - with a trio performance alongside bassist David Izenzon and drummer Charles Moffett. On the night they played the Fairfield Halls in Croydon, an occasion fully documented on record, the British pop charts were headed by Sonny & Cher's "I Got You Babe", but otherwise mostly home-grown acts: the Beatles, Jonathan King, the Animals, The Dave Clark Five, the Shadows. The only other American act was the Byrds, and there were two novelty outliers in the form of Horst Jankowski's "Walk In The Black Forest" and Marcello's Minerbi's "Zorba's Dance", probably bought by older listeners with memories of National Service in Germany or dream holidays among the Greek islands.
Coleman played to a mostly responsive house, though there was a heckler (British audiences are inventive at heckling, as Bob Dylan discovered the following spring at Manchester's Free Trade Hall) who felt Coleman wasn't playing enough jazz, or in "Silence" enough of anything at all. Ornette angrily or amiably responded by playing "Cherokee" and got an appreciative round of applause. British jazz fans were still divided along ideological lines: the "dirty beboppers" on one side, and the "mouldy fygges" who stuck to traditional and mainstream music on the other. But there was little sense that Coleman's music was in any sense a shock, as it had clearly been to New York audiences when he first came East from California. Indeed, many American musicians felt that they were more openly appreciated for experimental, edgy or non-idiomatic music in Britain and Europe than they were at home. The British reputation for hide-boundness wasn't always supported by evidence.
It's dangerous to attribute too much influence to cultural phenomena that were very little known at the time and whose real impact was long-term and retrospective, but it's clear than within British jazz of the early 1960s, there was a strong tolerance for experiment. Later in the decade, jazz-rock and fusion emerged at exactly the same time as Larry Coryell's and Miles Davis's first ventures with electricity. And so it was that in 1965, British fans and critics were already aware of the possibilities of freedom in jazz, sometimes through American visits - John Coltrane's much-bootlegged 1961 tour with Eric Dolphy remains the most obvious - but often because of native productions.
Not quite native in Joe Harriott's case, since he came to the UK at the age of 23, part of a wave of musicians from the islands who arrived in the early years of the decade and helped to reshape the sound and mood of British jazz. Comparison between Harriott and Ornette Coleman is obviously clinched by both being alto saxophonists, but also because both worked in close almost twinned partnership with trumpet players: Don Cherry in Ornette's case, Shake Keane in Harriott's. National pride frequently dictates a conviction that local musicians are as good as, or even superior to, the American product and many commentators have ventured as far as to suggest that Joe Harriott was, indeed, in advance of Coleman in pioneering freedom in jazz and an overturning of harmony as the main structural component.
The problem with legends - and Harriott certainly is in Britain - is that one reads the legend and stops listening to the music. Joe's first record, for Jazzland, was Southern Horizons. It reveals him as a loyal bopper/hard bopper, with some distinctive tonalities. In the same way, when later he collaborated with John Mayer on Indo-Jazz Suite and Indo-Jazz Fusions, the results were never quite as exotic or "other" as some supporters like to pretend. Harriott remained a jazz man rather than an avant-gardist.
He was, however, a very exceptional jazz man. Nobody, apart from maybe Kippie Moeketsi, Dudu Pukwana or Jackie McLean on his day, ever played with such transparent pain and joy. Despite his ill-health, he exudes a formidable expressive energy. But it's important to be clear what kind of musician Harriott was and that means looking past the rhetoric and the casual labelling. Like Charlie Parker, Harriott at his most typical was an effortless melodist. Look past the more forbidding titles on Free Form and Abstract - "Formation", "Coda", "Abstract", "Straight Lines", or "Subject", "Modal", "Tonal" on the second record and you'll hear something different to what your eyes are telling to expect. It isn't that Harriott doesn't experiment in free form or doesn't indulge in abstract ideas, more that he embraces them within a much more challenging extension of the tradition. Pure experiment is easy. Evolution of an idiom takes great creative intelligence.
"Calypso" on the first album and Sonny Rollins' "Oleo" on the second are the real pointers to who Harriott was. He blended freedom and abstraction with blues-inflected changes jazz in a way that was to become typical of British improvisation. The sessions are valuable for glimpses of two further lost legends of the UK scene, pianist Pat Smythe and the self- destructive power of drummer Phil Seamen, who sounds instinctively attuned to what Harriott is trying to do."-Brian Morton, June 2021