Tyshawn Sorey: Members... Don't!

One of the most welcome developments in twenty-first century jazz has been drummer Tyshawn Sorey's enthusiastic turn toward the jazz canon. While he had already established himself convincingly as one of the premier figures in creative music on immersive, challenging works such as The Inner Spectrum of Variables (Pi Recordings, 2016) and Verisimilitude (Pi Recordings, 2017), when Sorey decided to begin his idiosyncratic interrogations of classic jazz repertoire it opened up new facets of his musical identity, especially as an arranger. His Mesmerism (Yeros7 Music, 2022) and Off-Off Broadway Guide to Synergism (Pi Recordings, 2022) inaugurated this new path, and old chestnuts like "Jitterbug Waltz" and "Autumn Leaves" would never be the same. Sorey's re-imaginings always carry his trademark unpredictability, and they serve as a reminder that the jazz tradition is always amenable to reconfiguration. His modus operandi is as far as one can get from a repertory approach, and as such, it should be celebrated. So it is a genuine marvel to see him bring his prodigious efforts to bear on Members...Don't!, a sprawling live double album which explores and re-works Max Roach's 1968 classic, Members Don't Git Weary (Atlantic). And like all of Sorey's previous works, this one also displays the ruthless attention to craft and boundless creativity we have come to expect from this intrepid percussionist.

Roach's album is a remarkable stew of various jazz styles, from hard bop to funk to what was soon to be characterized as "spiritual" jazz. And like many of the drummer's recordings, it carries a substantial sociopolitical consciousness, embodied most fully on the album's title track with vocals by Andy Bey, exhorting those impatient for change to continue laboring in the struggle—a necessary incitement in the midst of the political and social unrest of the late 1960s. It is also a showcase for some fantastic musicians, as saxophonist Gary Bartz and trumpeter Charles Tolliver make a killer two-horn tandem, and with Tolliver, Bartz, pianist Stanley Cowell and bassist Jymie Merritt contributing seven engaging, groove-heavy compositions to the album. Having this context in view is helpful, because although Sorey uses the same quintet instrumentation and similarly impeccably chosen musicians for his record, that is where most of the obvious similarities end.

The opener, "Abstrusions," gives one a sense of how Sorey will make use of his source material. The Cowell-penned number on Roach's album has a loping, funky electric bass line driving it forward, with an irresistible groove from start to finish. In Sorey's hands, the start of the piece is given over to pianist Lex Korten and trumpeter Adam O’Farrill, who turn it into a wide-ranging, rubato dialogue with no discernible connection to the original melody. As the piece unfolds, Sorey joins in with subtle support and then, finally, midway through the track's thirteen minutes, Korten starts an ostinato phrase that kickstarts a surging pulse which is eventually strengthened by the entry of saxophonist Mark Shim and bassist Tyrone Allen II. This truly packs a punch—but the funky substructure of the original is only obliquely hinted at rather than foregrounded, and the horns' harmonies just touch upon Roach's version. And this is just a taste of what is to come.

The simmering tension created on the opener reaches a full boil on "Effi," one of the standout tracks on the album. Whereas Cowell's composition for Roach utilizes a mid-tempo modal framework, this iteration surges with a frenetic, blinding momentum that is somehow maintained for nine minutes—at which point the group shifts rhythmic strategies and takes on a slower, more deliberate tack, with Sorey delineating a structure that again echoes, but never recapitulates, Cowell's tune, at least until the last moments of the cut, where the melody finally does reveal itself fully.

Merritt's "Absolutions," Cowell's "Equipoise" and Bartz's "Libra" are all given similarly distinctive treatments, each with ample opportunities for all five musicians to join together in bursts of inspired music-making. O'Farrill has never sounded better, and his occasional use of electronics is another resource augmenting his own instrumental prowess considerably; he adds a gauzy sheen to some of the tracks that creates an elusive atmosphere. Shim is also in fine form, generating plenty of heat on his own or in his many inspired exchanges with O'Farrill. And Korten is a revelation, an up-and-comer who is consistently brilliant, whether during his own solos or in locking in with Allen and Sorey in maintaining the album's rhythmic propulsion. His expressive flights on the second segment of "Equipoise" are especially stunning.

The closing cut, "Members, Don't Git Weary" might be the most straightforward rendition on the album. And by sequencing it last, as opposed to the penultimate place it occupied on Roach's record, Sorey is clearly marking it as the album's capstone. Bey's vocals on the original are harrowing and inspirational in equal measure, yet they are matched if not exceeded here by the inimitable Fay Victor. Victor's leaps and growls, ecstatic moans and preacherly shouts are perfect in capturing the resilient spirit of the original—and the band magnifies her own fervor powerfully, particularly as the track moves toward its cathartic finish.

As the album concludes, it becomes clear that calling Sorey an "arranger" in this context really does not do justice to his accomplishment. Instead, in his reworking and reconceptualizing of these pieces, he is essentially merging his own vision inextricably with those of the original composers. What results is something well beyond homage. In the hands of these six musicians, it is a work of creation and collective assertion fully as urgent and significant as Roach's own statement, and arguably as essential for our own historical moment as it was in 1968.