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glenn
spearman
first & last
mte-015
25 july
1998
fire in the valley festival amherst, ma
spearman tenor
saxophone
rashid bakr drums
matthew goodheart piano
1. intertextual
reference (21:10)
2. under the incalculable sky, diseased with stars (21:59)
spearman's
last ever earth gig, performing or recording. Rest in Peace,
Glenn.
each
sound contains the encapsulation of our condition; an entrance,
a varying sustain, a decay. Notes like the lives of people. Filled
with the ase, their rich resonances giving meaning. Sounds uttered
by a Creator who both is & is not. Divine Truth encapsulates both
a created & a non-created universe; a transcendence discovered
in sound, in the act of utterance. Glenn believed in the Creator,
in the divine seed. He possessed that seed. He spoke of love. --
matthew goodheart, liner notes
#2 outside/in
album, 1999/2000 jazziz readers poll cadence
magazine reviewer's choice, top 10 recordings 2000
'You
would never know that tenor saxophonist Glenn Spearman was terminally
ill at the time of this recording, billed as his last. His full
tone, unmitigated energy, and graceful spirit soar to the heavens
on these two lengthy tracks recorded live at the third Fire in
the Valley Festival in Amherst, Massachusetts. Drummer Rashid Bakr
and particularly, pianist Matthew Goodheart, were effective partners
for Spearman, as he basked in their grooves. Goodheart knows when
to step to the side and when to interact with premeditated clusters.
This is energetic music of the highest order, a fitting memorial
to one the unsung jazz legends who could sing on his horn with
the best of them, but who never entirely received his due during
his lifetime. This recording should help to place his forceful
and very spiritual spirit in proper perspective.' --Steven A. Loewy, all
music guide
"This
is now our only chance to hear Spearman's tenor sax, as he died
shortly after recording this trio performance at Eremite's Fire
In the Valley festival. Spearman plays like Archie Shepp in 1969:
a full-throated tenor sax cry that goads his accompanists to play
ever harder, heavier, more recklessly. Pianist Matthew Goodheart's
'Intertextual Reference' is simplified Cecil Taylor; though he
was cunning enough to build a harmonic contradiction into the piece's
cell structure. The musicians hammer at the cloven motif with a
kind of beautiful anger. Goodheart's portentous chords recall McCoy
Tyner's contributions to Coltrane's classic quartet, but he doesn't
progress the harmonies. Indeed, the monumental immoveability of
the harmonic system is harrowing, almost a symbolic recognition
of the political reaction which smashed the aspirations of Coltrane & his
audience. However, whereas minimalism deems such an 'end of history'
sublime, these guys are beating their fists against it: the resulting
wondrous timbres & effects intimate a utopian music beyond the
tempered scale... If you're ready to let the music of the spheres
wring your bowels, this is it." --Ben Watson, The Wire
"By
the end of this set at Eremite's Fire in the Valley Festival, Glenn
Spearman has pushed everything through his horn: fractured tones,
scales torn & bent, a tenor saxophone's very guts. & as the audience
breaks into sustained applause, no one could have known that this
would be Spearman's last performance. Recorded in July 1998 in
Amherst, Massachusetts, shortly before his death, this is Glenn
Spearman's final recording. In that 1960s tenor tradition, from
Coltrane to Ayler to Shepp, Spearman's volcanic sound & turbulent
narrative dominates this bassless trio. Pianist Matthew Goodheart & drummer
Rashid Bakr continually feed Spearman's stormy improvisations through
two long pieces. & the tenorman is irrepressible. How can this
kind of spirit be replaced? --Greg Buium, Coda
"...Impassioned
honks, screeches, & screams are, of course, common practice among
jazz's energy players. But Spearman's music can push the wailing
concept to transcendent levels. When he hits high & hard with his
fully fleshed tone poems, the music takes on an urgency that bears
substance. On First & Last the message is forceful & foreboding.
It's intense, nearly overwhelming, & a fitting final word from
a colossal jazz improvisor." --Sam Prestianni, Jazziz |