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All compositions by John McLaughlin

My heartfelt thanks to John Surman, Brian Odges and Tony Oxley for what they gave to this creation.

One of the finest recordings in the jazz history. Completely sums up the styles and idioms of the British jazz, rhythm and blues, and avant-garde and free jazz exercises throughout the sixties. At the same time, points to the directions for future developments.

The music on this album conveys an overall impression of an extremely rare feeling of bitter-sweet (or, in McLaughlin's own words "sad-joy") state of being. The performances are equally odd -- one is left with a feeling that the musicians are simultaneously chiseling a sculpture in stone and painting a delicate watercolor pictures and portraits. Such robust and at the same time extremely fragile handling of musical material has carried on throughout McLaughlin's career, giving a unique stamp of originality to almost all of his creations. However, nowhere has it been more clearly pronounced than on his first album.
 

1. Extrapolation (2:57)
    Past and present incidences focused into the future

A perfect example of the quirky, modal, post-free British jazz. The band bursts into the few opening bars as if chopping large logs of wood, with the unbelievably tight cymbals work by Tony Oxley. Right away, one is made aware that the stage is set for something highly unusual and unexpected. The rough, chunky double bass strokes create intensely heavy backdrop for McLaughlin's weird noodling and strange sounding short bursts of clusters coming from his amplified Hummingbird acoustic guitar.

When the baritone sax and the guitar kick in with a very bright, crooked, edgy melody, it's like the rays of sun suddenly bursting through an opening in the dark cloudy sky. I can still recall how my ears perked the first time I've heard this piece. Immediately, I became aware that this is a highly unusual and an extremely attractive design pattern that has the power to forever influence my way of perceiving things.

I'll leave the rest of the discovery to the listener. Let me just repeat that you're in for a treat, especially with regards to the unbelievably inventive guitar playing.
 

When the turmoil of the opening piece ("Extrapolation") subsides, the slow, elegiac song begins to unfold. McLaughlin introduces a simple, heartfelt melody with the characteristic wide interval leaps. Surman joins in, this time on soprano sax. He starts weaving a poignant melody with ever increasing dramatic twists and turns. The extremely pronounced sharp contrast between the minor tonality and the major tonality which soaks up the whole piece underlines the "sadjoy" content of it. The tempo picks up, only to be dropped back to a staggering pace. Suddenly, the wailing of the soprano stops, and the guitar enters with a decisive rumble. The masterful patchwork of single lines interspersed with tasteful chordal licks is a joy to listen to. Again, the guitarwork makes the rhythm section pick up the tempo, which makes the guitar play with even more bite. When the guitar starts to sound angrier and angrier with each new note (making the bass join in with all its might), the band slows down to a flutter (ah, the amazing drumming by Oxley), and the head melody is replayed, with even more somber feeling.
 

This piece introduces one of the staple ingredients of McLaughlin's music. Throughout his prolific career, he will carry this musical pattern with him and will embellish it with many unexpected elaborations. It starts with a typical McLaughlinesque lick: Em11 - F#m11. The main melody is also very typical, and as is almost always the case with McLaughlin, consists of wide intervallic leaps.

The piece starts on a somber, solemn note. The solo guitar introduces the entire cycle of changes that will be played out so masterfully by the band. Once the guitar finishes its introduction, the band jumps in with such gusto, that it makes your jaw drop in disbelief. But the most amazing ingredient of this pinnacle of collective improvisation is the way they handle space (meaning, silence). Notice how masterfully they make you feel those cubic meters of empty air that they are pushing toward you with each of their breathing out! All four instruments breathe a single breath, and you can physically feel it while you're sitting in your armchair. First they suck you in with their deep breathing in, and then they send you out floating when they barely audibly breathe out. The baritone sax plays inspired intricate lines around these edges, while the guitar simply stays close to the bass, playing huge spaces.

This is the best ever minimalistic approach to making music (at least to my ears). It's simple to the point of being single-minded, and yet it makes you float in the air. The highly charged musical fiber is almost palpable, and the lyricism of McLaughlin's playing has never been more poignant, before or after this recording.
 

As soon as the floating of the "Arjen's Bag" is finished, they change gears abruptly and allow the whole concept of space and time to briefly dissipate into what appears to be a quasi-chaotic disarray of atonal noise making. It does not last for long, though; a few seconds later, the band is back on the tracks, cooking a hard-boiled version of the post-bop stream-of-consciousness groove. All of a sudden, McLaughlin introduces a quirky, elaborate melody, which makes everyone stop right in the midst of their groove, and to respond with resounding pulsation. The melody gets to be repeated and elaborated upon, and then the band slows down again, opening up for a nice, free form collective improv.

This rather loose and jelly-like group improvisation is really nothing short of amazing. It is impossible for anyone who has some experience with playing jazz, to believe that this segment could have been composed or "rehearsed". It's quite clear that they are making this up, pulling it in out of thin air, playing along as they go. And yet, the resulting music is astonishing. Although the band is, at this point, barely hanging together (because they are leaving the tonality in any shape or form, and are also violating any rules of proper meter), the music pulsates, it breathes a life of its own. One feels as if one can almost touch it.

Again, the instruments get angrier and angrier, the guitar is starting to bark and growl, and so is the baritone. The bass has dropped off onto a totaly unrelated tangent, where it escalates its thrashing, and the drums are following their own predefined path that no one else seems to be able to hang on to.

Finally, everything dissipates and evaporates, and we are left face to face with the drum kit; Tony Oxley delivers such a phenomenal drum solo that it defies my powers of musical analysis.

Eventually, the band tentatively joins in, rehashing the head melody, this time with more restraint. The drum roll fades out...
 

This romantic piece, soaked in the heart-rending ambiguous harmonic cloud, opens with a lovely, lyrical, closely miked solo acoustic guitar (nylon string). The arpeggiated lush chords cascade up and down, deeply touching our heart strings. After the resolute final chord has been nailed down, the amplified guitar enters repeating the last chord, and the baritone immediatelly joins in, stating the main melody.

The bass and the drums pick up the arpeggiated pattern. The sonic landscape is brash. Everything is floating, hanging in suspension. The baritone bubbles up, only to abruptly drop down to those gorgeous deep, sonorous depths of scratchy sound. McLaughlin executes spine tingling machine gun patterns, utilizing his guitar to the max. The whole ensemble breathes like a single organism, it heaves and rises up, helpless and defenceless under the powers of such potent fermentation.

Yes, this is a song of love. Real love, deep, fulfilling, a hundred percent commitment that runs down to the deepest ocean floors, simple and straightforward as life itself. It is sombre, loaded with pathos, but it is joyous as well.

The song ends on a very high, blissful note, executed on the baritone, obviously way beyond its intended tonal range. The listeners collapse into their chairs, completelly devastated.
 

This is the most straight-ahead piece on the whole album. Also, it has the most up-tempo pace. The band enters as if on a secret, inaudible countdown; the melody is extremelly complicated and arabesque-like, played by the guitar and the baritone. It stretches past any reasonable horzon of expectation, and carries on even when everyone would expect it to subside. Finally, when it has completelly unfolded, the bartone picks up the improv, whips the tempo up a notch or two, and starts cooking.

Next comes the guitar; McLaughlin picks up where Surman left off, playing some amazingly angular lines. Before you know it, he's switched the gears, and has prompted the drummer to crank it up, and to show his teeth. What a stunning interplay!

The piece ends with rehashing the initial melody, this time with a bit more restraint. After the last phrase is finished, the band slows down, starting to sound more and more tentative. And then...
 

A dissonant, wide leap, a pure cry coming from the guitar opens this marvelous masterpiece. The intro consists of masterfuly executed arpeggios that fall along the timeless blues progression (E/A/B). Supported by a sparsely executed, bottomless and spacious tones coming from the bass, McLaughlin starts his intoxicating brew. His absolutelly delicate and at the same time raucous rendition clearly belongs to the highest achievements in the art of blues guitar playing.

The bouncy, brave melody begins. The baritone starts from what seems to be the lowest possible B note, in unison with the guitar. They play the first part of the melody over the E major to A major to B major arpeggio, executed on the bass, with an intriguing stop-go drumming pattern that's pulling this big, heavy train. This is played two times. Then, the melody gets transposed by four degrees up, (starting on E), while the underlying progression goes from A major to D major to E major. This is played only once, and then the melody falls back to the E major pattern (starting from B again). Finaly, the underlying rhythmic pattern stops, and and the band engages in a semi grotesque waltz-like huge melody that goes from low C# all the way up to the two-and-half octaves higher tritone G. Then, it gently falls down to the two octaves lower E. Whew! Just thinking about this exercise makes me feel dizzy...

Now the machinery starts its cycles. The bass and the drums realy cook it up. You can plainly see the steam risng up as the movable parts get their shakeout. Oxley's cymbales are employed to the fullest, while Odges' bass grumbles and mumbles like a sleepy, grumpy black bear. On top of that, McLaughlin is riding this magic train with an uncanny insight.

Just listen to his zen-like handling of the guitar. With minimal efforts, with what appears to be just a gentle carresing of the strings, he makes his guitar speak. Pay close attention to many of the "phantom" sounds -- those are the accompanying "accidentals" that bring his improvisation lines to life. A scratch here, a harmonic there, an unexpected cluster over there... He masterfully employs the open strings, the background noise. But at the same time, his guitar sings. It sings beautfully. It is a song of freedom, of the human longings to be free, to bask in the sun. The heavy burden of imprisonment pulls his spirit down, and at the very end of his soaring, McLaughlin makes the crash landing by hitting the low E string with all his might.

Enter the baritone. The grumbling, desperate lament. But very soon, it starts to soar too. In the background, McLaughlin is cooking a shimmering, dark brew. He propells Surman to try and reach the ever higher vistas. Higher and higher, the baritone bursts out into the stratosphere. The piercing lament can be now heard throughout the entire Universe. Exhausted, he collapses to the ground, but the band forces him to pick himself up and to start dancing the defiant dance, repeating the underlying E major/A major/B major arpeggio in unison with the bass. Freedom at last! He has rediscovered the fundamental truth of his life.

The band signs off in a solemn vein. The introductory melody is repeated, this time with much more composure. They calm down, and create an opening for the next piece.
 

The only "jazz ballad" on this album, this meditative piece explores the depths of silence and loneliness. It starts with elaborate chordal work by McLaughlin, with a thoughtful underpinning by Odges. The drums pick up the slowly pulsating rhythmic pattern, and then the baritone introduces the convoluted, poignantly played melody. It is hard to say where does the melody end and the improvisation begin, because the two segments are in an amazingly similar vein.

The baritone disappears as inobtrusivelly as it entered, while McLaughlin kicks in by totally changing the tempo and the harmonic climate. His "chunky" playing forces Oxley and Odges to step in and to crank it up. McLaughlin's guitar work is again a thing to marvel at: how masterfully he combines his melodic tangents with his esoteric chordal solo! Alas, shortly afterwards he withdraws from the limelight, and the band repeats the introductory melody, letting everything dissolve into the pregnant silence.
 

The last exposition of their collective improvisational genius is also the most frantic, unabashedly shameless free jazz partying. It starts with Oxley's razor sharp cymbales leading into the mind-boggling unison melody (guitar and bariton). They thrash it around for a while, and then the lights go low, with only the center stage remaining lit for McLaughlin himself. Now he unleashes his guitar like he's never done in his life. The solo guitar bashing is at the highest imaginable level of trash/speed/death/metal idiom (even if it's decades before such terms were coined). The virtuosity of his playing seems to defy our imagination. His rhythmic and chordal work simply sounds impossible, and I wasn't able to determine if he had overdubbed himself, or is everything played in there live.

When the chordal solo is over, the band returns for a grand finale. And what a finale it is! Completely atonal, thrashing left, right and center, it's smoking, the feathers are flying. When the dust settles, we are gently led into the concluding number.
 

A very simple, modal etude for solo acoustic guitar. Some Oriental overtones, but not much. This is a short, intimate message to the like-minded people. Be peaceful, calm your mind, see what happens then.