France was a hotbed of free jazz activity during the late 1960s and early 1970s. A fraternity of expatriate American musicians solidified their reputations in the music through visits both abbreviated and protracted to the continent. One, soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy, would extend his stay for the better part of thirty years. Fortunately recording labels surfaced to document and disseminate the sounds. Among them the America and BYG imprints would prove the most prolific and representative of the still burgeoning free jazz idiom, a porously-bordered ethnomusical art form that encompassed not only jazz elements, but cultural borrowings from Africa, Asia and the Middle East. The fire breathing tropes of the post-Coltrane and Ayler schools held largely intact in these new Euro-American off-shoots, but they were bolstered by an even greater consciousness of global events and relativistic worldview.

America started its operations as a European distribution conduit for jazz reissues under the stateside ownership of the Fantasy label. Couched within this larger umbrella, the Free America series focused on albums by individuals and ensembles who have since become pillars on the freer side of the jazz spectrum. Emblematic names like Anthony Braxton, the Art Ensemble of Chicago, Archie Shepp and Frank Wright joined others like Clifford Thornton and Alan Shorter who weathered the vagaries of time with less success. Pressed in modest quantities the platters quickly became highly-coveted collectors’ items and the province of listeners with both the luck and/or cash to procure them.

Much to the euphoric consternation of many free jazz fans, Universal-Verve decided to repress the majority of the Free America catalog as deluxe reissue editions. When a boon of such magnitude drops from the skies an urge to scrutinize the gift with a skeptical eye also tends to evanesce with it. Remarkably, Universal leaves little room to complain or cavil. The fifteen chosen titles (out of a total catalog of twenty-five) received an unprecedented degree of respect and care. All are packaged in beautifully designed gatefold digipaks, adorned with a series of collage-style cover paintings by Frenchman Jerome Witz. Discs are housed in paper sleeves adorned with Xerox facsimiles of the original album covers. Individual booklets contain newly penned essays by Philippe Carles, Chief Editor of Jazz Magazine, similar stylized graphics and photos, original liner notes from the LPs and studiously researched discographical annotations. The albums themselves, many recorded under less than ideal circumstances, earn state-of-the art remastering and audio cleansing to the point where the results are often revelatory. Because of the industrious girth of the series this survey divides into three installments, each one elaborating on five titles.

Art Ensemble of Chicago
Certain Blacks
Verve/Free America
2005

A trilogy of interwoven albums by the Art Ensemble of Chicago launches the series. On Certain Blacks the core four of Roscoe Mitchell, Joseph Jarman, Lester Bowie and Malachi Favors enlist two guests to aid them in the LP-sized journey into deep blues forms: Chicago Beau on tenor, piano and harmonica and Julio Finn blowing second mouth harp. Drummer Don Moye wasn’t yet with the band. His precursor William Howell favors a somewhat more rhythmically orthodox approach to the kit and a propensity for hard- boiled beats. Assuming the moniker Edward, Jr., Mitchell focuses his attention on the mighty bass sax. His corpulent lines blast and etch away at the Studio Decca rafters pouring forth with pathos-rich potency. Built on a simple vocal mantra and gospelized riff, the side-long title cut stretches far and wide and posits no shortage of righteous ebullience. The horns cavort and swirl around a rhythmic center eventually dispersing into solos cropped by boisterous shouts and unison returns to the staple aphorism. Jarman’s switch to vibes leavens some of the momentum, but the six lock back on the groove thanks to Favors stout ostinato. A snippet of telling banter at the close betrays some surprising dissention at odds with the professed unity behind the piece. Side B divides in two with another Beau composition “One for Jarman” and a rollicking cover of Sonny Boy Williamson’s “Bye Bye Baby” that revels in the syncopation-suffused ambience of a South Side rent party, heavy on the funk. The former tune features the Beau’s ivories dancing in line with a lush contingent of horns, plumb bob bass and drums through a tropical-tinged reverie.

Art Ensemble of Chicago
Phase One
Verve/Free America
2005