I am attracted to the visceral power, rawness, and invention of Luther Thomas’ (St. Louis, MO 6/23/50) work and Luther’s request to do a session with Kalaparush Maurice McIntyre (Clarksville, AR 3/24/36) intrigued me as a contrast of styles and approach. Joining Luther for this rather open jam were Ronnie Burrage (St. Louis, MO, 10/19/59), who had been part of Luther’s Trio on CIMP #145, Brian Smith (Chicago 12/20/46), the veteran bassist originally from Chicago, and guitarist Mads Thorsen (Copenhagen 6/13/62) a musical acquaintance from Denmark, where Luther has been living since 1998.
This is not perfect music in that it is not highly polished or premeditated. It is much closer to a field recording and is a bit of an anatomy of a jam session. It is, in many ways, a perfect example of the spirit and organic development of this music, the ad lib strategy of extemporizing in a set time with various elements.
This is Luther’s third visit to The Spirit Room and each has been an occasion for elated confusion. True to form, this date, which was supposed to have begun January 4, didn’t really begin until the next day, after the previous night’s food fest, sound check, and rest-a-thon.
Things began hitting at 8:30 a.m. the next morning with Bye Bye Blackbird. Remarkably, the group goes from almost comatose to endorphinally alive. It is a phenomenon I’ve seen over and over and it always amazes and confounds me – never more so than with Luther’s groups. It is 8:30 in the morning but this is the ambiance of a late night jam. This is the living art form: great blowing, visual arrangements physically communicated with various hand gestures, shoulder movements and mimed words, improvised in flight, and a mounting, self-induced synergistic inspiration that literally awakens the spirit(s). At the end of “Blackbird,” there is congenial hyper chatter, laughter, some peeling off of outer shirts, beads of sweat turn into lines, and The Spirit Room welcomes and is welcomed by the sounds of its inhabitants.
“Getting Sentimental,” a tune referenced the night before for a series of sound checks, is next. The residual energy of “Blackbird” overloads the piece, oversteers it into musical cacophony and a break was called while Luther tended to the consequences of being lactose intolerant and Brian tried to cool off from the effects of overloading the fireplace with wood. During this break, Kalaparush and Ronnie settled into a nice impromptu Blue Monk jam. Regrouping, Luther called for Blue Monk saying, “Let all those mistakes be in, this is for Monk,” a reference in part to my suggestions that “Getting Sentimental” was less than sterling and also in respect to the spirit of Thelonious Monk.
After Blue Monk, things became disjointed in a series of takes on “Misty” and “‘A’ Train” which, for one reason or another, were done in by human factors (particularly frustrating to me as some exceptional solos were lost from the weight of the whole), all of which reminded me why editing and splicing are so popular. Even so, we continued to strive for the edge and the integrity of the perfect/imperfect whole. Things regained the focus and the edge with Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy, a piece that, in prior discussion, the group dedicated to the spirits of Julius Hemphill and Lester Bowie and all the other musicianers who, as Luther said, came to life after they died.
There’s an intensity and a necessity to creative improvised music which combines to take a maddening toll on the practitioners and producers of the art. And, as is the case here, for those artists for whom the music really is as serious as their lives, it is both a frustration and a privilege to be a part of the process. That process doesn’t end when the last note is played, or mastered, or replicated. The process continues right into the listeners’ ears and minds. We are all privileged to be part of this process.
How unpredictable that process can be is heard on Lester Leaps In, an ad lib which burst forth from Ronnie and his sticks and which seemed to strike an immediate consensus. Except for the original outburst, done while the mikes were off, I’ve left the whole process from beginning to end as I think it’s a neat kind of micro look at the process, part of the whole trip. After the duologue between Luther and Kalaparush, Ronnie had, in essence declared himself finished and began dismantling his drums. While Luther and Kalaparush talked about the recent funerals for Lester Bowie and Luther’s sister, the idea of doing a church piece came about. Luther began playing Closer Walk and eventually Mads and Brian joined in tentative support. It is both reflective and celebratory. The end narration was the final contribution from an I-can’t-help-myself Luther.
Robert D. Rusch 1/5/00
