Clifford Jordan Quartet Jazz | Fusion 2 Items

There are few saxophonists who were able to hold their own against the late great Eric Dolphy. Clifford Jordan is one of them. As a member of the Charles Mingus sextet on his legendary 1964 European tour with Eric Dolphy, Jordan is featured on iconic albums such as The Great Concert of Charles Mingus and Town Hall Concert. Born in 1931, the tenor saxophonist was a giant of the hard bop genre, with an adaptable style that could match the earthsy avant-blues of Mingus, or soar into space alongside Dolphy. Originally released in 1974 and recorded the year prior, Glass Bead Games was the fifth and final installment in Strata-East’s Dolphy series, and undoubtedly one of the fantastic series’ highlights. The recording features two different quartets, with only Billy Higgins (ds.) and Jordan (ts.) appearing on all tracks; Cedar Walton and Stanley Cowell take turns on piano, while Sam Jones and Bill Lee (father of Spike!) take turns on bass. Across 12 tracks and two sides, Clifford Jordan’s two quartets are consistent, with some of the tightest grooves and most spiritual playing of the 70’s being recorded during these two sessions. Album opener “Powerful Paul Robeson” is an homage to the legendary singer and activist, and is the kind of spiritual jazz that immediately sends chills down your spine. It opens with atmospheric piano rolls and percussion, over which Jordan’s free improvisations take on an almost devotional sound. Homages to great jazz men are frequent throughout, with half of the tracks being named after musicians, including the Lee penned “John Coltrane”. The song opens with a bass solo from Lee, before the quartet settles into a steady mid-tempo groove. Jordan plays the angular melody alone, and with every refrain, the melody takes on a haunting quality, until it descends into a subdued bass solo. The chant-like choral refrain that follows, laid gently over a repetitive bassline and delicate percussion is hypnotic, and as Jordan picks up the melody once more, you’ll feel as though this is somehow different. Glass Bead Games is undoubtedly one of the finest spiritual jazz recordings to come out of the 70s, and is one that you absolutely must not miss! We are proud to be reissuing Clifford Jordan’s Glass Bead Games, available on limited edition vinyl with an obi-strip, only from P-vine Records.

* Re-mastering by: Ray Staff at Air Mastering, Lyndhurst Hall, London / Fifth part of the Strata-East Dolphy Series, Glass Bead Games is arguably the crown jewel of the Strata East movement, an amorphous genre that treads an unusual path between post-bop, 70’s avant-garde and spiritual jazz, with a groove.

Glass Bead Games is full of revelations at many levels. First, the decade of the 1970s did produce genuinely creative, "human" new music flowing from the jazz mainstream; second, Bill Lee was more than Spike's dad: he was a superlative bassist, a team player of the first order, a powerful catalyst who, if anything, deserves to be better known than his son; third, Billy Higgins was, as so many musicians insist, a once-in-a-lifetime drummer—the bellows inspiriting the collective flame.

Most importantly, Clifford Jordan was an artist of the first order, his playing so effortless and unforced, unselfconscious and focused, mature and wise that, at a time when altissimo fury was all the rage, it's small wonder his authentic voice frequently went unheard. His musical rhetoric is so personally expressive, its substance so compelling, the listener couldn't care less about the extraordinary technique required to convey its captivating message. Compared to some of his more acclaimed peers he's a less aggressive yet paradoxically more directive and shaping influence. The climaxes, rather than spelled out, are merely suggested, registering with deep and lasting impact on the listener. It all comes down to learning the language, those precious little beads. Not every player, including Jordan or the listener, can use it like Shakespeare, but all can learn to read Shakespeare and understand its principles of arbitrariness and serendipity, of invariance and transformation.

Jordan, no less than Shakespeare, requires a like-minded cast of players—in this case four musicians of such redoubtable proficiency that each remains committed to keeping the beads in play. He's not a man content with a mere musical "dialogue" with his fellow musicians nor is he about to take the initiative in pulling his troops up to his level. Instead he begins to tell a musical story that's so compelling his three comrades are inspired equally to contribute to a collaborative narrative. This is brilliant music-making by a Coltrane- influenced successor who feels no obligation to mime the predecessor. It may be the most significant saxophone performance on record since Coltrane and, providing the listener stays with it for any length of time, the most deeply satisfying. Jordan's game—so effortless, unforced, and "level"—erases distinctions between composed and improvised, soloist and ensemble, narrator and narrative, the dancer and the dance. It seems incapable of wearing out its welcome.