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By Anthony Braxton’s definition, Jack Wright is a very dangerous man. Not danger as in hazards, but dangerous as in possibilities. Braxton classifies musicians as traditionalists (retro-New Orleans), stylists (all those hard-bop clones), and restructuralists (Charlie Parker, John Cage, Sun Ra). The restructualist Wright, like Parker in his time, is walking the precipice of creative music. Working new sonic boundaries, not readily acceptable to the average listener (or even average jazz listener). Wright works on the outer edge of improvisation, as a soloist he has no time structures as nets or preconceived ideas as safety lines. Wright spontaneously composes the very essence of music – sounds. His performances recorded here are progressive outpourings of notes, tones, squeaks, squawks, grunts, growls, yowls, snorts, bellows, snaps, gnarls, chortles, sniggers, taps, you get my point. Wright, a master of his saxophone coaxes non-saxophone songs from his horn. Like a street corner rapper, he makes it up as he goes. His prior recordings, like this one are self-produced and available from Spring Garden Music , and also he has released a two saxophone/two cello disc on the CIMP label. Wright is a treat is catch live, because his improvisations are physical as well as sonic. Sometimes you think his playing is a form of Tai Chi as movement and sound become one. Listening is another experience, one for the imagination and the open mind.
Track Listing: Heaven; Elsewhere; All Place Shall be Nameless; To The Napping Room; To The Crook Of An Elbow; The Apple Of An Eye; The Figure Of A Speech; For Broke; In A Circle; Or Just Away; Out.
I grew up listening to mainstream '70s rock then ended up on the staff at the college paper at San Diego State, and volunteered to review heavy metal LPs. My second semester, the music editor dropped a Fenton Robinson LP on my desk, Night Flight. You like metal; they play guitar--he plays guitar, the editor told me
I grew up listening to mainstream '70s rock then ended up on the staff at the college paper at San Diego State, and volunteered to review heavy metal LPs. My second semester, the music editor dropped a Fenton Robinson LP on my desk, Night Flight. You like metal; they play guitar--he plays guitar, the editor told me. If we don't run a review, Alligator Records is going to stop servicing us.
Night Flight opened up a whole new world for me--the blues led me, inevitably, to Basie, who led to Duke, who led to Mingus, who led to Miles, who led to ...