By Michael Ullman

As usual, Elemental’s pressings are pristine and the packaging is artful and informative, with new photos.

https://www.elemental-music.com/jazz-treasures/4861-bill-evans-in-norway-the-kongsberg-concert-8435395503942.html" rel="nofollow - https://resonancerecords.org/product/sun-ra-lights-on-a-satellite-live-at-the-left-bank-2-cd/" rel="nofollow - Jazz fans will welcome these two unexpected and invaluable sets of previously unavailable live music by jazz masters Bill Evans and Sun Ra. As usual, Elemental’s pressings are pristine and the packaging artful and informative, including the new photos: I love the one of Sun Ra in his headdress staring impassively at the camera while standing incongruously in the midst of a suburban street. Each set comes with new, revealing interviews, some by people who were there when the music was being made.

What do Sun Ra and Bill Evans have in common? Norwegian pianist Roy Helvin was at the June 27, 1970 Kongsberg Concert. He had previously heard the Bill Evans trio at the Village Vanguard. He paints this picture of the event: “I can still remember my feelings when I entered the room and saw Bill bent over the piano, creating with his music an almost sacred atmosphere.” Anyone who saw Bill Evans curled like a fern over the keyboard — almost frighteningly intent on his music and that of his trio — will have felt that almost sacred atmosphere. He played with force and yet with his own tone and touch. His lyricism was unparalleled: and yet he should also be celebrated for his vigor and the snap of his uptempo pieces.

Sun Ra presented himself as part of a carnival. He was not just different from Bill Evans, but unlike any other jazz musician. He claimed to be from Mars, not Birmingham, Alabama where he was born. (Evans admitted having come into this world in Plainfield, New Jersey.) Sun Ra (and his Arkestra) dressed in bright homemade shirts and headdresses, with spangles, sun symbols, and occasional necklaces. They directly faced audiences. I am tempted to say they beamed themselves at listeners during shows that, at best, included long improvisations on Sun Ra themes, vocals by June Tyson, and on occasion segments featuring dancers. Their leader would play disruptive chords and wild lines on a variety of electronic keyboards or the piano, but he also referred to the history of jazz by incorporating swing and the blues. The effect might best be described, often as one of anarchistic contrast, slipping and sliding between simple themes and extended elaborations, with solos by long-time Ark-ites like John Gilmore, Pat Patrick, and Marshall Allen.

Sun Ra and his Arkestra performing in 1972. Photo: Michael Ullman.

I owned his ‘heliocentric” records in college. In the mid ’60s I heard Sun Ra and his Arkestra live in Boston and then in a small club in Ann Arbor. Still, seeing that band and that flamboyant leader up close on the broad stage of the 1972 Ann Arbor Blues and Jazz Festival was a splendid eye-opener, a visual and musical delight. Most of what he and his group performed that night was imperfect but revelatory. Sun Ra’s message that night was positive. The band chanted ‘space is the place’ and Sun Ra proclaimed that we, his audience, were space people, not earth people. By virtue of our very presence, we had transcended the limitations of our war-torn, often racist, society, where the populace was polluting the earth and pretty well tearing each other apart. His dancers improvised steps in the (too) narrow space they were allotted, and others sang Ra’s cheerily didactic messages. There was antic humor in any Sun Ra performance, but there was also an unmistakable level of seriousness. In a short interview included in the Elemental release, Marshall Allen notes: “Above all, you had to be sincere to do what he wanted you to do.”

Bill Evans performing in the ’70s. Photo: Michael Ullman

The Sun Ra session on Elemental was recorded at the Famous Ballroom, Baltimore, Maryland on July 23, 1978. Two numbers from Robert Mugge’s film Sun Ra: A Joyful Noise have been added to fill out the last side. Beginning with percussion on what is called “Thunder of Drums”, Lights on a Satellite is what I would consider a typical Sun Ra set. He supplies swing, blues, and bebop, in not quite seamless sequences. June Tyson sings about the possible vibrations in our hearts in ‘Tapestry from an Asteroid”, which takes place over a wacky beat on bass. That tune ends with the arrival of a deliberately chaotic sounding group improvisation. Next comes a surprise: Sun Ra on solo piano playing “Over the Rainbow”, gradually adding cacophonous notes that Judy Garland wouldn’t have thought of. He seems to be touched by the sentiment of that song, which is, after all, about space. Later, after the pianist’s energetic solo intro, Ra’s “Cocktails for Two” turns into something like parody, with the weird glissandos and sudden outbursts of Marshall Allen’s alto solo. The swing era is represented by Fletcher Henderson’s “Yeah Man” (based on “I Got Rhythm”) and brother Horace Henderson’s “Big John’s Special”. The eleven minutes of “Watusi”, I am guessing, were for the benefit of the dancers — there is relatively little going on musically. Sun Ra’s fine blues playing is on display during “Space Travelin’ Blues”, which seems to be his version of “St Louis Blues”. “They Plan to Leave” is a song that informs us about people who “plan to leave this world one day in rocket ships…without even a farewell to anyone.” Apparently, they discovered that the truth isn’t to be found on earth. They leave us behind without a qualm. The Left Bank set ends with “We Travel the Space Waves”. I believe the band is walking off stage during the track’s six minutes: as one often says with Sun Ra, you had to be there.

Even the notes to the Bill Evans LPs are illuminating. The trio includes Eddie Gomez on bass and Marty Morell on drums. Gomez first recorded with Evans in May of 1966, four years before the Kongsberg concert. Gomez helped bring in drummer Morell, who joined in the fall of 1968; he had been with Evans approximately two years before the gig in Kongsberg. The pair approached performing with Evans with the utmost seriousness. In his interview here, Morell criticizes his own playing. “When I hear myself at that age, I sound like I’m struggling. I’m a little bit not as focused as I eventually became later on.” He adds “But anything Bill does is magic.”

The magic begins with a version of “Come Rain or Come Shine”. Evans doesn’t seem quite ready to solo … he abruptly passes the baton to Gomez. According to his rhythm sections, Evans would create a set list in his head, but wouldn’t reveal it to his bandmates until they were just about to play the line-up. Nobody seems put out. There’s a particularly sprightly version of “34 Skidoo”. “Gloria’s Step” is notable for its dynamics, highlighted by Evans’s subtle crescendos, sudden little crescendos, and diminution of the volume, which Morell follows exactly. “Gloria’s Step” becomes a drum solo and then, after a drop in volume, a showcase for Gomez. “Midnight Mood” is a Joe Zawinul tune which he recorded in an arrangement that sounds cluttered to me on his Money in the Pocket (1966). There’s no such problem here: the mood is somewhat light-hearted. In a surprising gesture, Gomez scurries up a scale. Morell dances with his brushes in conversation with Evans on “Nardis”. But, for me, the standout track of the set is the ballad “Some Other Time”. Gomez’s repeated two-note phrase anchors the performance, and Evans plays in his tenderest style, a caressing sound over a preternaturally tactful rhythm section. Still, even here, there are harmonic surprises amongst the musical delicacies. This performance alone is worth the price of admission.

For over 30 years, Michael Ullman has written a bimonthly jazz column for Fanfare Magazine, for which he also reviews classical music. He has emeritus status at Tufts University, where for 45 years he taught in the English and Music Departments, specializing in modernist writers and nonfiction writing in English, and jazz and blues history in music. He studied classical clarinet. The author or co-author of two books on jazz, he has written on jazz and classical music for the Atlantic Monthly, New Republic, High Fidelity, Stereophile, Boston Phoenix, Boston Globe, and other venues. He plays piano badly.

from https://artsfuse.org/