Few discographies are messier than that of John Coltrane. I don’t mean this in the typical sense of “messy,” mind, i.e. the wild peaks and valleys that you might typically associate with the phrase. In fact, I think he’s got arguably the most consistently satisfying, exploratory, and well-crafted body of work I’ve ever heard, and he’s released ten-fifteen albums that either attain or scrape up against the vaunted classic status. No, I mean in terms of making sense of the damn thing. Building a reasonable chronology of what his best works are and how they feed into each other can be a bit of a pain, since a) a shit-ton of albums came out in his name, many of them released by labels he had long abandoned, and b) release dates and recording dates often differ so dramatically that it can give even the most stalwart students of his work (and I would count myself among that number, at least from an armchair-historian’s point of view; I made a whole damn website about this dude’s discography for a course I took once upon a time) a headache.
Consider this post, then, my effort to hack through this jungle. And forgive the clunkiness of the two-part format; even boiled down to the most essential releases, Trane’s catalog still sprawls out in all directions at once, and the stylistic differences between his Atlantic and Impulse! releases present a natural dividing point. His tenure with Prestige is going to be a little short-changed by this list, and that’s not intended as a diss; it’s thoroughly enjoyable, and it’s always good to know where an artist came from. But it’s that glorious seven-year run, starting with Giant Steps and ending only with his premature 1967 passing, that has so captured my imagination over the years. Consider this list my tribute.
Note that I’ve fiddled with the chronology a little here; since I’m trying to chart a course through the man’s career, the dates these albums were recorded are a hell of a lot more interesting to me than their release dates, and several of my favorite later releases only came out after he passed; from what I understand, the dude was so musically restless that he’d leave whole albums in the can if they couldn’t keep his interest. Never trust an artist to judge their own work, because you’d goddamn better well believe that Om leaves me enraptured.
Lush Life. Prestige Records; recorded May 1957, released February or March 1961. I’ve chosen this as the major work of the Prestige years primarily on the strength of the title track. It’s far from Trane’s most innovative composition; it’s an old Billy Strayhorn standard done relatively straight. But Coltrane knew the songbook inside and out, it shows how well-developed his velvety tone, sense of space, and spiritual awe were even at this early phase. Features one respectable original, “Trane’s Slow Blues,” and a solid run through the old saw “Like Someone in Love,” which Bjork later Bjorkified on her 1993 Debut.
Blue Trane. Blue Note Records; recorded September 1957, released January 1958. Here it is, your first-ever indication that Coltrane was not like the other girls. It’s in the hard bop mode, even featuring future Jazz Messenger Curtis Fuller (who shines on “I’m Old Fashioned”), and an up-and-coming Lee Morgan, who also did a turn with Blakey. But if you’re one of those jazz fans who turns their nose up at hard bop because it’s too “basic” or whatever (in which case I do not understand you, but whatever), the bold tonalities that kick off the title track and the way Trane swoops into that “Lazy Bird” solo show that our hero already had a foot in the future. That title track, in fact, did a lot of work to get me over from jazz dabbler to jazz fanatic. Tip of the hat to Ed Love’s radio show “Destination Jazz,” which you can still hear on Detroit’s NPR affiliate if you ever find yourself curious.
Giant Steps. Atlantic Records; recorded May 1959, released February 1960. Near as I can tell it, Coltrane’s radical harmonic framework involved going back to the old standards. He’d change or add voicings as he saw fit, all the better to enrich the chords, and often increased the density of the changes themselves. This might all sound dry and academic until you note how dizzying “Countdown” is; he got in there and fiddled with “Tune Up,” which he first recorded with Miles, and the results are a glorious two-minute sprint into jazz’s future. Indeed, this whole album marks a mind-blowing response to the modal revolution, sometimes serving as a riposte to Miles’ spacious gospel (the thrilling title track) and other times deepening it, like on the haunting “Naima” (shoutout to Tommy Flannagan on this one) or the breezy sophistication of “Spiral.” And I mean, emotionally, this dude does it all. He’s earthy on “Cousin Mary,” playful on “Syeeda’s Song Flute,” and he just plain rips his way through “Mr. PC.” This would’ve been anyone else’s best album, and even by those astonishing Coltrane standards it’s still well in the Top Five. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar loved it so much he named his autobiography after it.
My Favorite Things. Atlantic Records; recorded October 1960, released March 1961. Musicians to this day adore Giant Steps, and us writers still salivate over A Love Supreme, but I’m pretty sure this is the most recognizable Coltrane album as far as the public imagination is concerned. Which, I think, might be part of the messiness; where Miles corralled everyone with Kind of Blue, Coltrane’s multifaceted nature makes it harder to pin a signature album to him than you might think. Still, his radical reinterpretation of the title track was as close to a hit as the circumstances (fourteen minutes, hardcore jazz, 1961 release date) allowed, and the album became one of his biggest sellers. And I gotta say, call me a populist dweeb, but I love this album. He takes can openers to the title and “Summertime,” transforming them into frenzied dances with strong modal influences; he takes a more conventional tack on “If Not For Me” and “Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye,” and goddamn if he doesn’t carry those off, too. Features the first appearances of McCoy Tyner (who shines on “Summertime”) and Elvin Jones, so the classic quartet begins to take shape here.
Coltrane’s Sound. Atlantic Records; recorded October 1960, released June or July 1964. Atlantic slipped this album out after Coltrane left for Impulse; he recorded much of it during the My Favorite Things sessions, but for whatever reason left it in the can. It’s one of my favorites of the era anyway, since it’s less monolithic and more intimate than the two albums I mentioned above. It’s also gifted with a terrific sound, brooding but with a little pulse; the energy turns inward on the prayerful “Equinox,” but my man gets all extroverted with “The Night Has a Thousand Eyes,” and it’s clear he’s having a blast. Meanwhile, the ballad “Central Park West” is every bit as lovely as “Naima,” and those striking tonalities and roiling piano chords put “Liberia” in dialog with both Giant Steps and A Love Supreme. So you get the past, present, and future together in the same room, on top of a hot ass groove. You gotta give it up for that one, folks.
Ole Coltrane. Atlantic Records; recorded May 1961, released November 1961. One of jazz’s oft-forgotten side stories is the briefly popular “Spanish Tinge,” which cropped up in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s; Miles likely kicked it off with Sketches of Spain, although Mingus’ Tijuana Moods (rec. ‘57, rel. ‘62) beat everyone to the punch. Coltrane’s take includes one of my favorite of his long modal trances, the title track; Trane and his midsized group, which includes giants Eric Dolphy and Freddie Hubbard and two bass players (Reggie Workman and Art Davis), wend their way through a hypnotic rhythm that never stops developing, which keeps the twenty-minute monster fresh and fascinating. Robbie Krieger cited it as an influence on “Light My Fire,” just one of the million times Trane left fingerprints outside of the jazz world. Meanwhile, McCoy Tyner continues his development; his “Aisha” is a highlight of the record, spacious and spirited enough to pass as one of Trane’s, but with its own unique attitude to melody.
So ends the first part of our jaunt. Join me next time when I break down Trane’s earliest ventures into the avant-garde.
Coltrane's Sound is a favourite. The first few measures of "Equinox" are alien and outstanding. "The Night Has a Thousand Eyes" is fitting for the same year Stan Getz took off.