LPs
Rejoice
Pharoah Sanders
L1981, Theresa Records
Pharoah Sanders, that illus
trious giant of the tenor saxo
phone who wowed a Eugene
audience last Friday, has
come out with a fine double
record set, Rejoice
He also makes a small but
significant contribution on an
other new recording, Beyond
a Dream.
Sanders has emerged as the
heir of his teacher and mentor,
John Coltrane. In fact, the
ghostly, almost tangible pre
sence of Coltrane in Sanders’
playing is uncanny.
But Sanders is a remarkable
player in his own right. His
dynamic range, his power, and
his clarity of tone surpasses
that of Coltrane, and his har
monic range equals it.
Sanders can be completely
unrestrained without losing
any control over his in
strument. He can put out a
deep, rich tenor sound, leap
into piercing wails, then shift
back again, without any
intermediate preparation. He
displays a masterly and un
common ability to manipulate
harmonic overtones.
Sanders has all this, and
more But he doesn’t have
Coltrane’s soaring, explora
tive imagination. This is the
impression given by Rejoice,
at least.
Clearly, John Coltrane’s ba
ton has been handed down to
Sanders. But Sanders is walk
ing with it, not running.
Nevertheless, Rejoice is
fresh, thoughtful, and beau
tifully assembled. It is an im
portant album in that it
re-establishes connections
with the past, and does a lot to
bridge the chasm that John
Coltrane’s death left in jazz.
Sanders is most true to the
spirit of Coltrane in the title
cut, a one chord vamp that
takes up all of side A. He
makes it his point to instill a
sense of religious reverence in
the listener, and a sense of
communion with the mu
sicians.
This could have been done
without the over-dubbed
voice. The invocation-invita
tion is inside the record jacket
for everyone to read, and
should perhaps have been left
implicit in the music.
On side B Sanders exposes
us to some terrific African
highlife music, and some ex
cellent young musicians who
definitely know how to play it.
Herb Wong, in the liner notes,
describes highlife as “a West
African forerunner of calypso,
salsa and other Latin forms.” It
is percussion dominated, ex
uberant music done with a lot
of guts and authenticity.
On sides C and D, Sanders
reaches back to Coltrane and
bop roots. "Origins” is an ex
ultant original composition,
with a nice vocal arrangement
by William Fischer. ‘‘When
Lights are Low” is a clean,
fresh rendition of a Benny
Carter tune.
The vocal adaptation of
Coltrane's "Moment's No
tice,” with lyrics and singing
by George Johnson, is an out
standing cut, with a burning
break and solo by Sanders.
John Hicks, who sizzled on
piano last Friday, also has a
great solo, and so does Bobby
Hutcherson on vibes.
‘ Central Park West,” an
other Coltrane tune, and
“Ntjilo Ntjilo/Bird Song,” are
both fine arrangements, with
one qualification: they should
have left out the harp. When
harps are added to jazz arran
gements they almost always
spell corn, and these tunes are
no exception
The album does not achieve
the intensity and drive that
Sanders, Hicks, Walter Booker
and Idris Muhammad achieved
in concert. It is a smooth, more
contained, sometimes even
mellow studio product.
But it still a fine, five star
recording. The personnel is
great. Every cut is different,
and every one flawless and
fresh.
— Matt Taylor
Theater
Buried Child
University Theatre
Buried Child, by Sam
Shepard, is a play that illus
trates the vulnerability of the
human condition. Set in Illin
ois, it concerns a family driven
slightly off-balance by the
actions of Dodge (Tyler Bass)
and Halie (Brigit Olson).
The seeds of madness are
sewn because of a baby born,
killed, and buried somewhere
in the backyard.
As the play opens, we find
Dodge and Halie quite old, and
visited by their son Tilden
(M.W. Mitchell) who has re
turned from New Mexico Til
den is clearly a man with a
problem. His speech is slow,
his mind runs on only a few
isolated tracks, and he spends
most of his time digging
around outside in the back.
Tilden's eyes seem to see
for the most part, a vague and
shadowy past, tinged with a
secretive awareness that sur
faces from time to time. He
remembers a baby that he
used to hold and sing to. He
knows that Dodge killed and
buried it long ago and that he
is not supposed to speak of it.
But it eats away at him and his
silence is broken in the second
act.
Enter Vince (Michael Cal
and harasses Shelly in a rather
demented fashion.
In the final act, Halie, slightly
tipsy, returns to the house with
Father Dewis (Stephen Mi
chael Purvis), whom she has
invited to tea.
Ideas and actions move very
quickly toward a climax.
Shelly tries to raise a sane
voice amidst all this insanity,
Vince staggers home drunk,
ranting and raving, and Dodge
tells the grisly story of the
“buried child." The atmos
phere rings with words that
haven’t been said, and
thoughts that haven’t been
voiced, in years.
The final moments of this
last act are, at first, energy
charged. Halie goes upstairs,
Father Dewis leaves, Shelly
leaves, Vince throws Bradley
out and passes out on the
couch, and Dodge seems to
die unnoticed.
After the crisis has passed,
and an emotionally weary
mood reigns, Tilden walks in
carrying the dead baby, newly
dug up. He sings to it and ac
tually looks at peace He car
ries it slowly up the stairs to
show Halie who is heard
rejoicing over the sun. Curtain.
You are left with a feeling of
numb horror yet to come, un
acted, but vaguely imagined.
The madness has worked its
way into full bloom over the
years, seeded by an act of
violence and reaping a tor
tured harvest. The family could
not escape their wounded
condition, and could not hide
from it. They could only live
with it, allowing it to gnaw
away at the roots of their
minds and hearts, victims of
their own inability to forget.
Time could not wipe away the
damage done it could only
worsen it.
The acting was superb. The
set was designed to evoke a
mood not only of the midwest,
but also of neglect and time
lessness. The past reigned
and could not be wiped away,
not even by the abrupt pre
sent.
The lighting and sound were
effective. You got the feeling
that it was raining even though
nothing was wet. The sunny
morning, complete with leaf
shadows, blue sky and clouds,
gave one a sense of stability.
As things got more and more
tragic, I found myseif looking
again and again at the reflec
tion of light and leaf as the one
solid base of reality. I felt as if I
were watching a bad dream
come to life A human night
mare. Are we not but slaves to
our own thoughts and actions?
Buried Child gives us an in
sight into these things but all
the same, it ruined my night.
— C. Hanson
lahan) and Shelly (Deanna
Duplechain). Vince is Tilden's
own son who has brought his
girlfriend for a visit. He has not
been home for six years. But,
caught up in their own mind
games, both Dodge and Tilden
do not seem to recognize
Vince Their minds travel
shadowy trails, they appear to
linger in the past, locked in a
trance, where there is no room
for change.
Unable to handle this
strange and cold welcome,
Vince leaves to get whiskey for
Dodge and ends up driving all
night, caught up in the same
spell, though, he does not yet
know the deadly secret. He
feels only his father’s and his
grandfather’s blood coursing
through him, leading him into
their future, fitting him into
their shoes.
Shelly, finding herself in an
unpleasant and crazy situa
tion, deals with things as best
she can during Vince's ab
sence She eventually, if not
indirectly, gets Tilden to reveal
the secret that plagues him.
She learns of a baby, killed
Bradley (Martin Steiner), Til
den’s brother, then enters the
scene He scrares Tilden away
1
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by
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