Attica Blues

Once I got into avant garde jazz, I went pretty deep. The pause I had to put on this dive happened when I balked at the enormity of the sound in my teens, when I hadn’t even gotten through the Zeppelin and Sabbath catalogues; I still needed footholds and trail markers. Not to say that that is a negative thing; the familiar guides us into opening up further. A funny thing happens though when you start digging into anything new: the more you hear, the more you know, and the more you know, the more you hear. Once in my twenties, as my friends and I began devouring decades of the expansion of what it meant to be “outside”, we internalized the nuances and methodology of the movement. Every album yielded a dozen more, as we became familiar with side musicians, who then of course led dates, which exposed us to more side musicians, and so on. The first time I saw the name Archie Shepp was poring over the credits and notes for John Coltrane’s Ascension, a sprawling, single take, large ensemble explosion of freeform improvisation that often is like one of those magic eye paintings: some folks are just never going to see the picture. If you can find a copy of The Major Works of John Coltrane, you’ll find that there were actually two takes of Ascension, and they’re quite different (that particular collection includes both). When choosing which one to release as an lp, Coltrane went with one take, which was pressed, but then after more listening, he decided to press the other. If you’re buying Ascension on lp, you can look at the matrix number on the inside of the wax, and it should have either a roman numeral I or II, denoting which of the takes you actually have. Anyway, this is how I first learned about Archie Shepp, and if this paragraph is any indication, even the slightest engagement with this material only further contextualizes the enjoyment of the music.

I was always on the lookout for a good vocal within this visceral and intellectual music; something like a rope hanging from a helicopter. I grew up loving Billie Holiday and Sarah Vaughan, but what I really loved was a super expressive voice to bring concrete meaning to an artform that could be so abstract. The opening, self-titled, cut on Attica Blues is a chugging, urgent, funky summons; a call to action - focused and nasty. It’s the kind of song where you make that face, you know that face; the one that you make when you smell something so foul that it’s sweet. Or a skunk, or something skunky. After the wah and tambourine clear a path, Henry Hull starts listing his plaints: “I got a feeling that something ain’t going right / and I’m worried bout the human soul”. The whole band comes in after some building and ratcheting things up, slamming horns, basslines going where they want, voices shredding the tape; I think that this might be the heaviest goddamn song I have ever heard. Every time I hear it, it’s this same cycle of thoughts, and bongos and strings, and shouts, and eventually Archie Shepp is messing around with some reed-biting tenor, rough edges but deliberate. The song (and album) is a reference to the 1971 prison riot and consequent massacre of inmates and hostages at Attica prison, and there is a sorrow in it, and a confusion. This is how I feel when I am continually confronted by the fact that people can’t seem to open their hearts enough. The world is a mess, and a lot of us are barely keeping it together, but still there are sublime sunsets, and that lighter ring of color around the iris of an eye; your kid shining into the future, perched on a rocket going one thousand feet per second. The beauty of the world strides on, in the face of carelessness and abuse and murder; many governments, our own included, sponsor these atrocities both directly and implicitly. Everyone knows it, but nothing changes. If another country  perpetrated the same crimes against its citizens, and especially if that country were made up of folks who weren’t white, we would be invading, or at the very least, organizing some kind of coalition or sanctions against them. The United Nations would pass resolutions, the international community would band together under the direction of “the leader of the free world”; the only country to use nuclear weapons on a civilian population.

I’m frustrated that everyone knows these things, but we’re all still asleep to it, because it’s been made very difficult to stop the train. Politics is all money and lobbyists; it’s a game one must play, compromising ideals and stomaching rotten things in order to achieve a watered down version of what can start as a noble idea. A constant state of warfare has been laid out before us to benefit the companies who make all of the weapons. The people in congress are often connected to those companies and/or the banks who fund them, so it’s not much of a surprise that regardless of who is in office, there is always money to drop bombs, or to outfit the police, or to build and mobilize armies. When there is a rare instance where something is actually investigated, there aren’t any systemic changes made, there is usually a scapegoat who takes the fall, sacrifices their career; the entire structure that allowed the corruption to even happen remains, and everyone gets paid. I know that to some this all may sound terribly vague, but what I’m describing is the literal modern history of America. What happened in Beirut last week, which has resulted in the government actually stepping down at the behest of an angry populace, should have happened here a thousand times before we arrived at this point. I think one problem is that we champion individuality over intelligence and empathy. Why do we have to dream of a place where instead of prioritizing weapons and power and force, we took care of people? What if everyone was healthy and had access to education, childcare, and the resources that made life worth living? Can you imagine that world? 

If I would have had the chance to make the decision

Every man could walk this earth on equal condition 

Every child could do more than just dream of a star

I’d destroy inequity and I would put an end to war

Jesus Christ, I’m telling you, this tune is absolutely wrecking me. Hearing these words repeated over and over is making my chin quiver; what a testament to the crushing sadness blanketing us, that people have to dream the world that would be fair and loving for everyone; that there are people out there who would rather push their boot deeper into throats than to let up and recognize the worth and humanity within everyone; or that they may not even understand that they’re stepping on people as they move through their lives. The rest of the album reinforces these feelings with a continuous depth and nuance, pointed and sincere spoken word, poetry, and the poignancy of “Steam”, all culminating with Cal Massey’s daughter singing “Quiet Dawn”. Massey was a frequent collaborator with Shepp, and Waheeda Massey singing this song is akin to seeing a kid wearing their parent’s clothing, perhaps dressed for a formal ball, holding a champagne flute of orange juice. I think it’s the perfect way to end the album; the imperfection juxtaposed with the thoughtful arrangement, but highlighting the opportunity; this little girl singing on such a mammoth album with an attitude and style well beyond her years. 

As the media cycle shifts, and coronavirus dominates, we can’t forget that we are living under a demagogue whose existence and rise to power was made possible by the architecture of this country. Trump is not an anomaly, he is a logical figurehead to a brutal regime. We can take him down; we have to vote and push those we vote for to go further and do better. We can’t stop saying Black Lives Matter. If you feel weird about reparations, defunding the police, socialism, gender fluidity, free education, healthcare, disarmament, etc, keep pushing yourself; read more, talk to people. If someone says something racist or sexist or dehumanizing, say something. I’m going to keep saying these things and I hope that you will too. There are a number of resources, if you want to do more, even right here in this area. I hope that Attica Blues hits you right in the gut the way it hits me; it’s an amazingly potent album, and couldn’t be more relevant right now. Keep showing up. Keeping educating people. Don’t give up.

Archie Shepp - Attica Blues

Saturday August 15th 2020, 7pm

Just put it on at your house using a stereo or the internet or whatever you want.

Eric Gagne

Nova Arts