ALBUM REVIEW: Pharoah Sanders - Black Unity

    This isn't my first rodeo with Pharoah Sanders' brand of jazz, and in more ways than one - I gained familiarity with the saxophone player during his stint with Coltrane in his last years, about 1965 to his 1967 death, and helped to accelerate the fantastical and avant-garde elements of Coltrane's fantastic jazz stylings. After Coltrane passed away, Sanders moved to making his own jazz records in a similar style, some of which feel like the continuing of where Coltrane left off; the noisy and impassioned Karma is a landmark moment of spiritual jazz, and perhaps the most defining moment of Sanders' career to this day. There was also his work on Alice Coltrane's Journey in Satchidananda, where is saxophone overblowing and improvisational ability helped to give even more life to the adventurous nature of Alice's work. Even with those towering works under his belt, there was very little that could have prepared me for the sonic movement that was Black Unity, which stands as one of the most bold jazz experiences I've witnessed in recent memory. Even when matched up to his previous works, Black Unity is a through and through triumph of spiritual jazz and the avant-garde, taking from what he knows and combining it with something new to create a marvelous spectacle of beauty and cacophony, and all throughout one piece. No other album I've heard from Sanders can come close to the pure scope and passion of Black Unity.

    Unlike other Sanders albums which typically have two or more compositions - Karma, for reference, had two songs across its runtime, as does his later free jazz work Love in Us All. Not so much here - Black Unity spans across 37 minutes, and is one singular composition, more similar to an album like Coltrane's Ascension in that aspect (and a few other aspects, but we'll get there when we get there). As much as I love jazz, it's similar to a lot of jammier or long songs in that they need to work to justify a longer length, as a means to not feel like you just heard a piece that could've been much shorter - well, given that Sanders made the epic "The Creator Has a Master Plan" work just fine at nearly 33 minutes, I went in optimistic about Sanders' work, and was far from disappointed. Let it be known that Black Unity is far from a piece that's content in being stagnant, and I'd argue there's very little of the album that sounds much like it's repetition on what's been done earlier by Sanders. While it follows in very similar free-form footsteps of someone like the great John Coltrane and still leans heavily on the spiritual elements of jazz that accelerate Sanders into the tier of greatness, Black Unity is an out-there piece from start to finish, one minute brooding and building in its distinctive bass riff before beginning a growth into percussive textures and the Pharoah's saxophone riff until the album's crescendo into a caterwaul of saxophone and musical textures, just as violent and intense as some of Coleman's most dissonant work. It's an almost other-worldly experience at that peak, as Sanders' saxophone yelps and cries out emotion, all before the work descends back down to Earth in the second half. It's a proper musical journey, within and without.

    Not only is the album's core one of the most compelling compositions that I've heard from Sanders yet, but the musicianship displayed on the album is equally fantastical from start to finish. The crux of the album is centered around a bass lick from Cecil McBee, who keeps the groove going from start to finish in the album's most prominent hint of normalcy - it's this motif that helps center the album to Earth while the rest of the musicians go off into something greater. Sanders himself is more than just fantastic on the saxophone here, with his atonal work and avant-garde techniques hitting their absolute zenith, but he also takes up the balafon (a gourd-resonated xylophone) to enhance the percussive characters of the album throughout. There's also the frantic styling of Marvin Peterson's trumpet, which combines with Sanders' saxophone at points to greater emphasize the record's beauty in chaos. Two drummers take up the sticks on this album, one with Billy Hart (who would play on Miles Davis' own out-there jazz masterpiece with On the Corner later that year) and another with Norman Connors, both of whom help keep and remove from the album's rhythm, sometimes with the most spontaneous energy on the entire album, and considering what you're hearing, that means a lot. The album is also complimented by an occasional drone that pops in throughout the album, although my ears still can't quite make out what exactly it is - nonetheless, it's yet another oil paint on a colorful sonic canvas.

    Pharoah Sanders has always been a jazz artist who I've looked to explore more in-depth at some point in the future, and Black Unity has given me even more reason to venture down his repertoire. While the composition is a bit unwieldy in its scope and abrasive in its contents at points, the power of Black Unity can't be overstated, and it's proven one of the most fascinating and rewarding jazz album experiences in recent memory. It's a testament to Sanders' genius and ability as a composer, and is a triumph in spiritual and free jazz through and through, equally chaotic as it is moving. I used to see Sanders as someone who picked up right where Coltrane left off when he passed, but with Black Unity, not only does he continue from there, but reaches a new level. A really special kind of record.

RATING: ✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Listen to Black Unity.