A Love Supreme

In 1988, my father called to say he had extra tickets to see Miles Davis at the Studio Museum of Harlem. Given the size of the museum I knew just how intimate this performance would be. I hopped the train from Providence and high-tailed it uptown to 125th Street only then to find that the word intimate would be an understatement. Instead of a stage, there were two chairs, a table, and a tabletop microphone. Once seated in the audience, facing this odd set-up, without any introductions necessary, in walked the legendary Miles Davis, with his autobiographer, Quincy Troupe. Quincy then explained that Miles’ history was so rich, and the stories so incredible, that he needed an audience to hear them first hand.

Miles’ stories were amazing. He recounted from the early days of Be-Bop under the wing of Charlie “Yard Bird” Parker, and the birth of “Cool”, but when he came to his years with John Coltrane, those particular tales really struck a chord with me. One jocular story seemed to summarize the legend of Coltrane. Miles proceeded to explain, in the raspiest of  raspy and coolest of cool tone, how he noticed that Coltrane loved to eat bananas. When he asked, “Trane, why you always eatin’ bananas?” John responded, “Gorillas eat them, and they strong as a motherfucker.”

This is John Coltrane, strong as a motherfucker. He had to be strong. Playing the music that he played and as well as he played it, all the while suffering ignorant and vitriolic racism of America throughout the 40s, 50s and 60s. It was an incredibly powerful strength that set John Coltrane apart from the rest of the pack. So much so, that most Jazz heads don’t appreciate the beautifully sublime approach to his sound, even in the later free exploration and cacophonic phases found in such records as The Avant-Garde, Sun Ship, and Interstellar Space, his playing maintained a purity that few will
ever match.

Still, many Jazz aficionados look to John Coltrane’s years with Miles as his most impressive, if only as a master soloist. In fact, one of my favorite tenor sax solos of all time is Trane’s ferocious rip through an innocuous pop tune once sung by Bing Crosby called “Sweet Sue Just You”. The Miles Davis Quintet reduces the tune to a clean example of modal exploration. Trane’s attack on the piece is scorching, evidence of a virtuoso unparalleled at the time. In one point of the solo, Trane releases his mouthpiece to emit a guttural “Hunh!” that says, “Damn, I’ve got to keep it moving”. Yet it’s Coltrane’s later work as a composer and bandleader that remains some of the most important music of all time.

In December of 1964, in Englewood Cliffs, NJ, John Coltrane recorded the seminal album, A Love Supreme. While it would be a full five years later in 1970 for the record to reach Gold status, by all musical standards of measure this album is widely considered a masterpiece. The musicians with Coltrane at the time of the recording were McCoy Tyner, Jimmy Garrison, and Elvin Jones. As a group they are largely regarded as the most talented quartet ever assembled in the history of Jazz music.

From a revolutionary standpoint, A Love Supreme was released in the midst of The Civil Rights revolution. In 1963 JFK had been assassinated. Medgar Evers was also murdered that year. In 1964 LBJ signed the Civil Rights Act. Then in 1965 Malcolm X was assassinated and the Watts Riots broke out. But Jazz music was never a stranger to the voice for change and revolution in the Black American community. In 1929 Louis Armstrong dropped Black & Blue. In 1939 Billie Holiday recorded Strange Fruit. In the late 50s Charles Mingus wrote and recorded The Fables of Faubus. (Both “Strange Fruit” and “Faubus” were banned from radio air-play in the United States.)

Sadly, the vast majority of the world’s population doesn’t really care about Jazz music now. Few care about its history, legacy, or impact on modern culture. Even as a truly original American art form, the Jazz legacy has summarily fallen into the bottomless vat of historical amnesia and ignorance. It will be curious to see how Hip Hop survives the same fate years from now, though it apparently is well on its way into oblivion as the legends and pioneers of the game struggle to find and maintain their influential status, deserving of respect and recognition by the next generation of Americans.

The way I see it, A Love Supreme is an anchor in a storm of violence and despair. An album that transcends time and space that to this day provides a meditative solace to the initiated. In four parts, Acknowledgment, Resolution, Pursuance, and Psalm, John Coltrane dedicated the album as a humble offering to God and directs the audience with a letter that begins, “Dear Listener, ALL PRAISE BE TO GOD TO WHOM ALL PRAISE IS DUE.”  He writes of how in the year 1957 he experienced a spiritual awakening which lead him to a “richer, fuller, more productive life.” Ten years later in July of 1967, just as the summer of love was taking flight, John Coltrane would take flight into the afterlife, leaving behind an incredible catalog of music and an indelible legacy to study, revere, ponder, and enjoy.

Not one to proselytize that God is for everyone or an absolute concept of God must be elevated over another, my philosophy is secular, people should be free to practice their faith and beliefs as they choose. But love is essential to our existence and there will always be at least one time in everyone’s life when we need
A Love Supreme.