Coltrane is breaking free of the turmoil and glides down to earthly realities where Miles can handle the transfer. Miles comes on exhausted from the energy spent translating the logic of Coltrane’s solo and it takes a few bars for him to regain, once again, the confidence of his own instincts which now collaborates with, or, may even now be born from the Coltrane performance - it is all one now and when Miles blow his last note, the rhythm section, alone, closed the curtains.
Chinua Achebe, the Nigerian author and teacher wrote once, that he seek to do with the English language what African American jazz musician had done with European instruments – mole and bend them until these instrument could tell their saga in an epic universal language. Nowhere in the annals of music is that statement clearer than in John Coltrane’s performance in Teo. Perhaps this is why he is one of President Obama’s favorite musicians.
Note: This recording is available on YouTube.
Article comments
1 - Alan Kurtz
Mr. Mungin, please accept this in the spirit of helpfulness rather than nitpicking. On the Amazon listing for your book Sleepy Willie Sings the Blues, the first word in the second sentence of the Product Description should be Reminiscent, not Reminiscence. Anyhow, thanks for the review of "Teo" with Miles & Trane. Don't get no better than that, man.
2 - roger nowosielski
Alan, I do suggest you take a look at Mr. Mungin's literary output, in particular The Phantom Culprit - there, I linked it for you!
Don't you ever make a grammatical mistake of any kind, Alan, or I'll come down on you mercilessly, since you're your own harshest critic and editor as well. You were born and raised in a boiler room, Alan, no other way to explain it.
And what's that "Don't get no better than that, man" turn of phrase? Where did you learn your English, boy>
3 - Alan Kurtz
Roger, I am eternally grateful for your link to Horace Mungin's "The Phantom Culprit." It is far and away the finest piece of writing I've yet read on Blogcritics, and that includes my own stuff, of which I am as you know inordinately proud.
And you're right about my having been born and raised in a boiler room. It was in fact the very same boiler room as in Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man, where his unnamed narrator works in a factory that makes white paints. (I've always cherished that steamy irony.)
Finally, please bear in mind that my phrase "Don't get no better than that, man," is meant to be spoken in the hoarse rasp of Miles Davis, as when he listens to the playback of Take 1 and declares, "Don't get no better than that, man." In 1956 Miles, Trane, Red Garland, Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones recorded four albums' worth of material for the Prestige label in two marathon sessions in order to fulfill Miles' contractual obligation and allow him to switch to the higher-profile Columbia label. There were practically no retakes. Every song is a gem.
4 - roger nowosielski
Well, Alan, you beat me to the punch with Ralph Ellison, because he was going to figure in my next comment. There are definite parallels here in terms of style, subject matter and let's face it, experience; though Horace's piece (because of its brevity, no doubt) comes through as very intense, it really shines. One wonders though how Ellison managed to maintain his unique voice throughout the whole book. But that's true of all great writers. Experience is always the bedrock. It takes you out of the range of literary musings and makes you come out with works that are truly immortal. I am blessed with genuine concern, for which reason my writing is decent; but I lack Horace's experience - the experience of a black man living in a segregated South, or some other such set of circumstances to result in a personal trauma or the life of living hell, to take my writing to another level. Experience in the sense I'm using includes genuine concern but it doesn't reduce itself to it; it personalizes it. Think of the great Southern writers; for many it was a culture shock, for others, like Capote, an alternative lifestyle. South can be very unforgiving. Flannery O'Connor has some useful things to say on the subject.
As regards the idiom, I know you weren't trying to endear yourself to Horace. I was just baiting you.
As an aside, a few days ago, Dreadful compared Mark Twain with Harper Lee; he argued that Twain's literary output in terms of range and sheer volume surely made him a "superior" writer than our "one hit wonder."
That was no occasion for me then to contest such a view, but now there is. I'd rather be known for Harper Lee's masterpiece, or that of the master stylist's Flaubert, than for Mark Twain's body of works. I don't know much about Twain's circumstances, but he was a journalist by trade; writing was expected of him. Perhaps it does affect the quality of one's work, perhaps it does not, being subject to the American cookie machine. I don't know and I'm not going to make informative judgment.
On the other hand, take Albert Camus as a shining example.