Sun Ra: WKCR Studios, Columbia University, New York, NY 7/8/77 (FM CDR)
So, where did we leave off? Oh yeah, the summer of ’77 and Sonny’s solo
piano adventures, some of my very favorite Sun Ra records: the introspective studio LP, Solo Piano Vol.1, and the more flamboyant live recording, St. Louis Blues. There was also one more solo
piano set that month: a radio appearance on July 8 at WKCR, the
left-of-the-dial FM station at Columbia University in New York City (which
seemed to have an open-door policy whenever Ra was in town) and a 36-minute
tape of the broadcast circulates widely amongst collectors. Actually, I
discovered there are at least two different versions of this broadcast to be found, which caused me considerable confusion when I started to write this up a couple weeks ago. My
first version appears to contain two additional tracks, but, as it turns out,
the DJ proceeded to play side one of Monorails & Satellites
after Ra’s set. Moreover, that first tape was plagued by loads of FM interference and
other extraneous noises, sounding like it was recorded with a microphone held
up to a speaker. It was rough, but listenable. The second (and more common)
version of this broadcast sounds much, much better (more like a proper line
recording) and does not contain the confusing album tracks (although the
sequence is slightly different). It’s one of the better “bootlegs” out there
and, despite this flurry of activity in 1977, solo piano performances were
exceedingly rare, making this an indispensable addition to the collection.
Starting off with bluesy improvisation, it’s sadly apparent that the radio
station’s piano had seen better days: it’s out of tune, some of the keys are
sticky, and the voicing is wildly inconsistent, dull and indistinct at one
moment, shrill and piercing at another. But Ra makes the best of it, actively exploiting
the weird resonances and at times making it sound like a funky clavinet or
electronic Rocksichord. Although apparently improvised, there is an elegant
structure, with a contrasting, “classical”-sounding
middle section, complete with delicate trills and impressionistic arpeggios. Is
this an unknown composition? Or is it just another example of Ra’s off-the-cuff
genius? Who knows? The old stand-by, “St. Louis Blues,” is up next and it’s another
barn-burning performance: three, four, five independent voices ringing out
simultaneously in wildly swinging counterpoint. If there were ever any doubts
about Sonny’s piano playing abilities, just listen to this! Another standard, “Sophisticated
Lady,” follows and it’s given an oblique, fractured reading, with radical,
pantonal re-harmonizations and some astonishingly intricate passage work—check out
Sonny’s ultra-dexterous left hand! Another blues improv once again brings out
Ra’s brilliantly orchestral pianism with nimble bass riffs and thrilling horn lines, his two hands amiably wandering through distant keys.
After that virtuosic display, things get really interesting. It seems Sonny is just getting warmed up! An
untitled original starts pits an agitated ostinato in seven against skittering
right-hand flourishes and beautiful block-chord harmonies. The stuttering bass-line
almost sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it—another one for the “unknown”
file, I guess. “Take the “A” Train” is given the same treatment as “Sophisticated
Lady,” a ruminative extrapolation on an old favorite, blithely dispensing with all the clichéd
familiarity and nostalgic sentimentality associated with this well-worn warhorse. His enervated explorations of
low-register tone clusters and fiery single-note runs easily rival the
intensity of Cecil Taylor at his most bombastic—but no matter how “out-there”
it might sound at times, Ra deftly brings it all back around to the ragtime and
swing which forms the basis of jazz. The vast expanse of African American
musical history, from emancipation through the avant-garde is seemingly encapsulated
in this four-and-half minute version of “Take the “A” Train.” Incredible.
Another unknown title follows: a two-chord vamp with pretty right-hand
melodies, a space-rhumba feel that gradually morphs into straight-ahead swing
before going out. Although dreamy and imminently enjoyable, it feels more like a sketch for a
potential Arkestra arrangement than a fully-fleshed out composition. The next
track, however, was deemed good enough to appear on a Saturn single titled "Quest," in
1982 (Gemini 1982Z). However, the Evidence two-CD compilation misattributes this track to a later
date (see Campbell & Trent, p.239). Even more confusing, my first version
of this tape has “Quest” occurring at the very end of the set, making my correlation
even more difficult. In any event,"Quest" is a short but intriguing tone poem, with
jagged, irregular melodies, Morse code rhythms and brittle, uneasy silences.
Incidentally, the sound quality of the 45-RPM single is considerably better
than the off-air recordings we have here, indicating the possibility that a
pre-broadcast master exists in the Sun Ra archives. Well, we can hope so,
anyway.
The final track (at least on my second iteration of this tape) is “Trying
to Put the Blame on Me,” a doleful, two-chord vamp over which Sonny starts to
sing. Of course, there is no microphone near his mouth, so you can barely make
out what he’s saying at first. But there are other voices in the background,
faintly echoing Ra’s declamations: June Tyson and John Gilmore, who have been
quietly sitting in the studio, apparently waiting for this very moment. The
station engineers frantically move mic stands around and the song eventually
starts to coalesce, a darkly paranoid indictment of those who would blame Sonny
for…what? I’m not sure. “What’s the name of this game?” he asks. “Cuz if I’m
the cause of it all, then that makes me the boss.” Whatever it is, he sounds
eager to assume the role. According to Campbell & Trent, “Trying to Put the
Blame on Me” would only reappear almost ten years later, at a concert in
Cambridge, Massachusetts on June 10, 1986 (p.491-492). Surely, this song was
performed at some point in the intervening years – or perhaps not? Maybe the
subject of this diatribe was so specific, it only needed performing once in a
while. Again, who knows? These are the sorts of tantalizing tidbits that keep
me interested in this project: the mysteries of Mr. Ra.
As you all know, I have complained vociferously about the dismal sound
quality of most of the “bootlegs” we’ve surveyed so far – but this one
(especially the more common, correct version) sounds very nice indeed, despite the hiss and crackle inevitably associated with low-watt radio broadcasts of the
era. More importantly, Sonny’s performance is extraordinary, combining the contemplative
meditations of a studio session with the dazzling technical displays of a
live concert. It is, in many ways, my favorite of the solo piano recordings
from 1977. Definitely worth seeking out, even
for the most casual Sun Ra fan—or any devotee of jazz piano. Sun Ra was not just a great composer and bandleader, he was a fluent pianist and the living embodiment of a deep-rooted tradition dating back generations, a fact that sometimes gets lost in all the big-band hoopla and space-age gobbledygook. Here's proof.
