SoSaLa: 1993

Saxophonist SoSaLa—born Sohrab Saadat Ladjevardi to Iranian parents in Switzerland, brought up in Germany, martial arts student in Japan, and a New York City resident since 2008—is the sort of wild card we need more of in jazz. Not necessarily because of the actual music he makes, which has limited appeal, but because of the energy he brings to its creation and the free-thinking attitude out of which it erupts. And also, actually, because it does have limited appeal. Jazz likes minorities.

SoSaLa's message to the media announcing the release of this 1993 recording starts with the headline: "A Noisy Voice Again With Powerful Messages" and ends with the observation: "Doing nothing and staying passive are unacceptable." You can say that again in 2023, as much of jazz, like much of the rest of liberal, educated America, appears—at least as viewed from London—to have rolled over and given in to the seemingly inexorable march of domestic neo-fascism, which will hit the fan with the 2024 elections. Where is the tidal wave of opposition? Why is rap and rock left to do the heavy lifting? What happened to jazz's rebellious nature?

1993 is loud, aggressive, primal, confrontational, as nuanced as a honey badger and what else have you got? It is a ferocious blend of late-period no-wave and free jazz. It lasts barely twenty-five minutes but seems shorter. Imagine Albert Ayler and Ornette Coleman jamming with James Chance and the Contortions and a side order of Glenn Branca. Marc Ribot, Arturo O'Farrill and Dave Liebman are three musicians who have lined up to rave about it. Liebman says it is "honest and fierce and takes no prisoners" and "should be mandatory in school and club situations." O'Farrill says it is "Fuckin' Brilliant."

Basically, 1993 puts the art in cathartic. The video below does not come close to evoking its intensity but seems to be the most up-to-date SoSaLa footage out there at the time of writing.

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