Pharaoh Sanders
Grace Cathedral, San Francisco (April 21, 2006)
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Pharaoh Sanders
Grace Cathedral, San Francisco
April 21, 2006 |
The MC from SFJAZZ requested that we hold our applause during Mr. Sanders and the accompanying piano player William Henderson’s entrance, indirectly suggesting that we, in a secular manner, contemplate in silence.
Sanders appeared between the front pews and the ceremonial territory of the priest a few steps above. Immediately I felt from my fevered-flu body a rush of gratitude towards him. It's been ten years since I first heard "Upper Egypt and Lower Egypt" from his album Tauhid. If I were ever in the music magazine MOJO's "Last Night a Record Changed My Life," Tauhid is the one I would choose. It's been 35 years since Mr. Sanders recorded it, and as he started to fill the whole vault of the cathedral with vibrant twists and tunnels of sound, I was struck by the obvious: He's played nearly every day since, every day a musical experience leading to the next, until this day at Grace. A singular moment, yet only one in a lifetime of music.
He began with a 15-minute improvisation of Nina Simone's "Feelin' Good," as gorgeous a collection of tones as I may ever hear. Whereas Simone's version was rueful and bitter in her vindication, this was a deeper blues reading, more the positivity of rock-bottom than of any kind of feistiness.
What followed was a mix of his own compositions with those of John Coltrane, Sanders’ mentor. It was in Coltrane’s final creative flowering, a supernova of bare-knuckle avant-garde spiritual intensity, that young Sanders found his voice, and Sanders, in keeping with his ever-wise demeanor, has never said word to disrespect that education. On this night at Grace his choice of the Coltrane compositions “Giant Steps” and “Naima,” blues-based compositions that pre-date their working relationship, suggested that although the public makes the correct connection between the two men, the connection is of a deeper musical and geographical texture than is generally acknowledged.
Sanders’ famous sax shrieking was deployed in controlled measures. It may be that over time it's become less a surrender to violence or chaos than another range of sounds, albeit unhinged from puritan jazz etiquette, that he can appeal to when his feelings demand them.
In a cathedral like Grace there are innumerable shapes and shadowed patterns with which to ascribe the sounds that Sanders was producing. I spent a lot of time looking at the arches in the ceiling, the stain glass, and their rippling concrete borders, all of which produced a visual evocation of depth and shadow equal to Mr. Sanders’ explorations of his instrument.
The evening’s program contained the following note:
Grace Cathedral's soaring vault produces a natural, seven-second reverberation. This effect-- far different from typical concert hall acoustics-- will be an integral component of this performance.
Indeed, the seconds of this performance passed with dream-inducing cascades of notes. As a humble congregant of the church of jazz, this concert proved to be a healing experience.
WILL CRAVEN |