It made me think how lucky the audience was to witness this sparkling band performance, and to see and hear a musician who could make a saxophone sound like no other.
Transcendence Sounds 23040
Pharoah Sanders (tenor sax, percussion, vocals); Danny Mixon (piano and organ); Calvin Hill (bass); Greg Bandy (drums)
Recorded Maison de la Radio Studio 104 Grand Auditorium, Paris, France 17 November 1975
For any young, unknown or up-and-coming musician, forging a strong association with a musical giant is a two-edged sword. On the one hand, it’s a show of faith in their playing ability and earns them much kudos from their peers. And when they finally break out and go their own way, many people are going to pay attention to what they do next.
But sometimes it can be hard to step out of the shadow of a musical genius. In 1965, twenty-five year old tenor saxophonist Pharoah Sanders joined John Coltrane’s band. He may have been young, but by then, Sanders had worked with Sun Ra and Ornette Coleman, developed his own signature sound, and recorded his first album as leader. Even so, the relationship between the two men – initially at least – was one of master and apprentice.
Sanders played on roughly a dozen albums with Coltrane, beginning with Ascension. After Coltrane’s death in 1967, he worked with Alice Coltrane, recording half a dozen albums with her. So the shadow of John Coltrane loomed large in Sanders’ life and music, and as a result, he was sometimes dismissed as a Coltrane-lite saxophonist (jazz critic Kevin Whitehead, who wrote the liner notes for this album, admits that he was initially one of those who shared this viewpoint).
But this tag doesn’t do Sanders any justice. There’s no doubt his playing was greatly inspired by Coltrane, but Sanders’ explosive delivery and spirituality also influenced Coltrane – Sanders once said that he felt that his playing had a rougher edge than Coltrane’s. Sanders’s musical career went through many phases: free-jazz, spiritual jazz, Avant-Garde, Afro-jazz, and in the late 1970s, even pop, soul, smooth jazz and disco – his 1977 album, Love Will Find A Way, featured a female vocalist.
But what never changed was the power and passion in his playing, and his deep spirituality. This was a man who wanted to live in a world full of love rather than hatred or division. There was a fire, fury and ferocity to much of Sanders’ playing, and long before electronics were being used to change the tone, pitch and volume of acoustic instruments, Sanders was using a variety of techniques – overblowing, multiphonics and vocalising as he played – to create a maelstrom of sounds and textures from his tenor saxophone. His instrument would shriek, growl, howl, cry, scream and rasp. Some of the sounds he created were dissonant or discordant, but all of them were straight from his heart and soul. But he could also play melodically, and with much tenderness, as witnessed on the haunting beauty of his 1985 ballad ‘Shukuru.’
This album was recorded in late 1975, when Sanders was at the crossroads of his musical career. He had recorded his last album with Impulse! two years previously, and it would be another two years after this concert before he released his next album. This quartet did not stay together for long and they never recorded in the studio. It’s a shame, because this was a band bursting with passion, talent and imagination. Pharoah Sanders died in 2022, aged 81. Pianist Danny Mixon has also worked with Betty Carter, Hank Crawford and Charles Mingus. He is still playing in New York today. Bassist Calvin Hill has played with Max Roach, McCoy Tyner and Lee Konitz. He is another surviving member of this band. Drummer Greg Bandy worked with Joe Henderson, Eddie Henderson, Lee Morgan and Gary Bartz. He died in May 2025, aged 74.
Some of this music was released as a single album five years ago, on the Transversales label, under the title Live in Paris 1975. This new release contains additional tracks and longer versions of most of the tunes. The album packaging is excellent. The CD version has two discs in a double fold-out digipak, with photos of the band at the concert rehearsal. The 12-page booklet has concert photos and an informative essay by Kevin Whitehead, interspersed with quotes from a recent interview with Danny Mixon (the latter’s story of how he got into playing the organ is hilarious!). Disc one has six songs and lasts for an hour. Disc two has five tunes, with a total running time of around 50 minutes.
The concert was recorded in front of an audience of around 800 at the Paris studio of the French radio broadcaster ORTF. The album begins with a powerful and dramatic opening number, a nine-minute improvisation played on a massive pipe organ that stood at the back of the stage in the Maison de la Radio’s grand auditorium (a photograph in the CD booklet shows it towering behind the band on-stage). It is the sound of the church, and Mixon creates a tidal wave of sound that fills up the auditorium – it must have been quite an experience sitting in the audience. Sanders emits growling, howling sounds on his tenor sax. Hill’s sombre arco bass lines, Bandy’s tumbling drums and Sanders’ clattering percussion all add to the darkness of the piece – it sounds more like music for entering the gates of hell than heaven.
The following trio of songs form a three-part 30-minute suite, ‘Love Is Here.’ The Live In Paris album only featured the first two parts, and Sanders would record a five-minute version featuring vocals by Phyllis Hyman two years later. Part One is a glorious, joyous number, with the band swinging hard on a two-chord piano/bass vamp, and Sanders unleashed on tenor. Four minutes in, his horn screams and yelps before reverting back to the smoother tones, with Mixon playing dreamy, rippling chords, and Sanders playing a short, sharp solo at the coda.
His solo segues to form the intro to Part Two of The Suite, his abrasive sound coated with vibrato. Thundering drums join in, and then the band takes off with another fast, swinging and exciting piece. Mixon’s extended piano solo is a thrilling ride that includes fast ripples and runs, pounding chords and tinkling high keys. Hill follows with a solid bass solo, followed by Bandy’s drum solo, full of fire and fury, before the band returns to the theme. This 13-minute section is one of the album’s highlights. Part Three is seven minutes long, and starts off with a long, slow piano vamp, interspersed with trills. Sanders plays softly and then Mixon plays a long, impressive solo packed with trills, glissando and driving chords. He’s joined by Sanders’ vocals, which sound like a call from somewhere deep within a forest. This prompts Mixon to play a short vamp, before returning to the theme, now joined by Sanders on sax.
The album includes two unidentified tunes (the radio logs for the concert were far from comprehensive) and so the longest number on the album (sixteen minutes in length) is a medley simply titled ‘Piano Medley/Pharoah’s Blues.’ The first seven minutes is an extended piano solo, with Mixon providing a masterclass in improvisation that includes stride piano, various musical quotes (including ‘The Shadow Of Your Smile’) and the blues. The blues section merges into ‘Pharoah’s Blues’ with Sanders hollowing ‘I get the blues’ and unleashing a torrent of sound from his sax. Hill is also given a solo spot on this soulful band performance.
Billy Eckstine’s ‘I Want To Talk About You’ was a Coltrane favourite. Sanders plays the song’s pretty melody softly; the sound is light and spacious and miles away from the forceful playing associated with him.
Disc Two begins with the first of two Coltrane numbers from his 1957 album Blue Train. ‘Moment’s Notice’ is an exciting fourteen-minute ride as the band races through the changes, and everyone shines on their solo slot. One gets the impression that both the band and the audience were exhilarated and exhausted after this workout.
Pharoah Sanders’ ‘The Creator Has A Master Plan’ first appeared on his 1969 album Karma and has since been hailed as a 32-minute masterpiece. In this listener’s humble opinion, the opening bars of that song are some of the most moving moments in jazz. On this album it’s condensed into a five-minute performance. Sanders plays the opening section with a smooth, silky tone, before handing over to Mixon, who plays a long solo. Sanders tenor re-joins toward the end, his horn shrieking and hollering, with Bandy adding some thundering fills and splashing cymbals. It’s a pleasing performance but not a patch on the original.
The disc mastering is a bit strange at this point, because the tune ends and there is just a hint of audience applause before it abruptly moves onto the next piece, the second unidentified song called ‘Ferrell’s Tune’ (Ferrell was Sanders’ birth name. He spent years telling people in interviews that it was his idea to change it to the more memorable Pharoah, and not Sun Ra’s. In an interview with music writer Dave Di Martino, Sanders said: ‘I read some interviews, somebody said Sun Ra gave me my name (chuckles a little), or something like that. He didn’t give me my name. I used that name before we ever even met, before I’d ever even known about who Sun Ra was.’
‘Ferrell’s Tune’ is a pleasant, midtempo, piece with a Latin feel and sweet melody played by Sanders, who also adds flute-sounding vocalisations to the sound. The second Coltrane tune, ‘Lazy Birds’ is a ten-minute swinging, uptempo performance, with Hill given space for some spirited soling.
The album’s closer is another highlight, the twelve-minute long ‘Love Is Everywhere.’ Sanders takes on the role of a preacher crying out from the pulpit. ‘Love is everywhere! Love is in your heart! Love is in the air! Love is on the ground! Love is in the sea! Love is everywhere!’ he exclaims in a hoarse voice, as Mixon plays a rapid piano vamp.
Both the band members and audience respond to Sanders’ exhortations, before he picks up his horn. The band members are name-checked, as is the city of Paris. It’s a rousing, uplifting performance, and a great ending to the concert. It made me think how lucky the audience was to witness this sparkling band performance, and to see and hear a musician who could make a saxophone sound like no other.
