By Rob Hancock

In a world of pioneers, originators and innovators, Sun Ra stands out as the definitive eccentric genius of jazz. A man who ably predicted the experiments of free-jazz years ahead of other artists, was using electric instruments from 1957, dressing his band as flamboyantly as any 1970s fusion groups by 1960. A man whose determination to express his musical and philosophical doctrine led to the creation of his own independent label, Saturn, in 1956.

According to his own admission, it is no surprise Ra was able to demonstrate such mystical clairvoyance, believing from an early age he was not of this world. He believed he had been sent to earth from Saturn on a predetermined mission to enhance life on our planet through music. His incomprehensible and, frankly, baffling theories on life on earth and in the heavens, jackdawed elements of Greek philosophy, Egyptian civilisation and Astrology. Sun Ra’s incessant predilection for the future and all things ‘space’ was immediately evident from some of his earliest recordings titles, ‘Rocket Number Nine Takes Off For The Planet Venus’ (1960) and ‘We Travel The Spaceways’ (1962).

Ra was born Herman Sonny Blount, on May 22 1914 in Birmingham, Alabama. Under the encouragement of an enthusiastic high school professor he moved north to Washington in the 1930’s to study piano under the tutelage of Lula Randolph. By 1946, Blount was making his first recordings, backing blues shouter, Wynonie Harris. Now resident in Chicago, his individual style caught the ear of other musicians and he worked with Coleman Hawkins and Sonny Stitt. Blount was invited to join Fletcher Henderson’s band, although his unusual style was often unpopular with other band members used to a less extraordinary talent. So much so he was taken to placing an open cutthroat razor along the side of the piano to ward off any unnecessary criticism. However, those with vision have often remarked on Ra’s unique talent. Hawkins, one of the most adaptable and enduring of tenors, referred to Ra as ‘…the only somebody who wrote something I couldn’t play.’ Ra’s deceptively simple sounding arrangements frequently baffled those without the space-trained ear.

As with other innovators in jazz, his contribution and influence has consistently been undervalued or rather overshadowed by his eccentric ideas. John Gilmore was certainly a big influence on the huge, blustering sound of the later Coltrane and Herbie Hancock’s experimental late 1960’s sextet, which included Julian Priester, owes much to Sun Ra’s own work.

It was in Chicago in the early 1950’s that Blount believed he experienced direct communication with other planets, which led him to change his name by deed poll to ‘Le Sony’ Ra’ in 1952. It was also around this time he formed what he referred to as a ‘space trio’, with Richard Evans and Robert Barry. By 1954 the line-up had expanded to include Marshall Allen, Pat Patrick, John Gilmore, Art Hoyle, Julian Priester, and James Scale and so the birth of the Arkestra. The nucleus of which was to last, under a variety of suitably exotic names, until Ra’s death in 1992.

Much of the 1950’s output of the band makes reference to space and ‘other forces’ and is a kind of ‘bump-bop’ with Ra’s typically quirky arrangements. Ra’s playing itself has much in common with Monk, with his off kilter phrasing and penchant for ‘wrong’ sounding notes. His approach on the earliest Arkestra l.p ‘Sun Song’, a blend of Ellington phrasing, Monkisms, Vaudeville, Basie’s back to basics blues and rolling flourishes of more decorative players like Art Tatum and Jay McShann. The earliest forays into this otherworldly music reflect a nation preoccupied with space travel and sci-fi in the post war climate of advancement and adventure. Listening to these recordings now rather reminds one of 1950’s sci-fi, with their quaint, curiously dated futurism. Some tunes are like a bumpy ride through space, in a rocket ship made from a washing up bottle. Others are more cerebral, freer experiments, ‘Thither and Yon’ from the 1963 l.p ‘Cosmic Tones for Mental Therapy’ with it’s dubby echoes and flute squeals conjures up a heady sense of joyful abandon. Jazz has consistently been a spiritual musical movement, whether through an expression of organized religion or a connection with ancient African witchcraft in many ways Ra’s work is consistent with this, dealing with the illusive and unseen.

In 1961, the Arkestra left Chicago for Canada, appearing in and around Montreal and holiday villages surrounding Quebec for a period, before returning to the U.S and the hotbed of Jazz, New York City. Flat broke, members of the Arkestra began working as studio musicians and pop backing bands in order to self finance the continuation of the Arkestra project, enabling them to record 10 l.p’s between 1961-1965 for their own Saturn label. Whilst in New York, the band also recorded l.ps for the ESP imprint. ‘Heliocentric Worlds of Sun Ra’ comprised two volumes, recently reissued by the label. Pharoah Saunders recorded with the Arkestra replacing Gilmore in their final ESP outing of 1966 entitled ‘Nothing Is’. The group secured a residency at Slug’s in New York between 1966 and 1972 and continued to produce their l.ps, now more influenced by the advent of electronic instruments and the growth of the avant-garde. Arkestra performances aimed to create a distinctive space-age environment through dress, the use of chanting, voices and ensemble percussion.

Ra always believed Europe to be more receptive to his music than the United States and frequently toured from the late 1960s onwards. In 1970 Sun Ra was invited to play the Berlin Jazz Festival, stunning and confusing the audience in equal measure with the shows dancing, lighting and playing. Shortly after, Ra’s dream was fully realized when he was able to perform in front of the pyramids in Egypt in 1971. The resulting soundtrack ‘Space is the Place’, spawned an anthemic title tune reaffirming Ra’s preoccupation with the beauty and freedom of outer space.

By the late 1960s the band had settled in Philadelphia. From this base they continued to record and tour prolifically throughout the 1970s and 1980s, much of their work appearing on the labels Black Saint, A&M and Leo. Even in sad and frail health, and confined to a wheelchair, the ever-determined Ra continued to direct the Arkestra in it’s portraits of inter-galactic peace, love and beauty until his death in 1992.

Whatever one thinks of Sun Ra’s philosophical space outpourings, his music remains a challenging and fresh approach to Jazz. How could a charlatan consistently inspire such loyalty from a talented band for forty years? Ra has secured his position as an anomaly in a world of odd behaviour, but the one thing he really impresses upon the listener is a complete and unswerving dedication to his unique brand of Jazz.