Private by default — share only the days you choose.
No comments yet. Be the first to comment!
Sign in to leave a comment.
There is a moment in Arooj Aftab's Vulture Prince where time seems to unhinge itself. The strings...
There is a moment, somewhere between the third and fourth track, when a record stops being...
There is a moment, somewhere in the middle of Arooj Aftab's Vulture Prince, when the room stops...
There is a moment on Promises — the 2021 collaboration between Floating Points, Pharoah Sanders,...
There is a moment in Bill Evans' Waltz for Debby — somewhere in the second chorus, when the left...
I still think about the first time I heard Coltrane's A Love Supreme on a rainy afternoon in a café somewhere in New York. The needle dropped, and the opening bass line felt like a door opening—simple, reverent, insistent. It's one of those albums that doesn't ask for your attention so much as command it, and by the time Coltrane's saxophone entered, pouring out that relentless prayer, I was already somewhere else entirely.
What strikes me most about A Love Supreme is how it refuses to separate the spiritual from the technical. Coltrane was at the peak of his powers in 1965—his improvisations were impossibly complex, his harmonic language dense and exploratory. But the album never feels like a showcase. Instead, it feels like devotion made audible. The four-part suite unfolds like a meditation: Acknowledgement, Resolution, Pursuance, Psalm. Each movement builds on the last, not through narrative but through emotional and spiritual escalation.
There's a moment in the third movement, "Pursuance," where drummer Elvin Jones takes the lead, and the whole piece becomes a torrent of rhythm—polyrhythmic layers crashing and spiraling, barely controlled chaos. It's exhilarating and overwhelming, like watching a storm roll in. And then Coltrane's saxophone cuts through, not to calm the storm but to ride it, to find meaning in the turbulence.
A Love Supreme is jazz, yes, but it's also gospel, prayer, testimony. Coltrane himself described it as a spiritual awakening, a thank-you offering to a higher power. You can hear that gratitude in every note—urgent, joyful, humble. It's an album that rewards deep listening but also meets you wherever you are. You don't need to understand modal jazz or know Coltrane's biography to feel the intensity of what he's saying.
There's something profoundly human about an artist at the top of their craft choosing to create something so vulnerable, so earnest. In an art form that often celebrates technical virtuosity and cool detachment, Coltrane chose devotion. And somehow, sixty years later, that choice still resonates.
If you've never listened to A Love Supreme, I envy you the experience of hearing it for the first time. Put it on. Let it wash over you. Let it take you somewhere.
#music #jazz #ArtHistory #spirituality
