But what is all this by way of acknowledging the greatness of John Coltrane? In the end, I can only resort to my own much feebler grasp of the instrument we call language. Coltrane's music brims and overflows with the genius of an enormous heart and soul. I cannot begin to name a favorite piece, or even a single favorite album. I would hate to live without his elegant, stately ballads (especially those recorded with singer Johnny Hartman); without the breathtaking courage and confidence of his attacks on the songs of Blue Train; without the aching mournfulness of "Alabama"; without the polyrhythmically beating African heart of The Africa/Brass Sessions or the swirling Indian intricacies of "My Favorite Things"; without Trane contrasting Miles Davis's mood or Eric Dolphy backing Trane's; without the driving prayers of A Love Supreme or the serene petition of "Dear Lord."
You know how sometimes when you dream, you fly? I am insomniac. The world looks different at night. There is no better time for solitary thinking. Or for dreaming—awake or asleep. Often I put the headphones on and listen to Trane in the night. I drift into that hypnagogic state between utter relaxation and the sweet oblivion of sleep. And with Coltrane pushing and pulling, blowing as if his life depended on it (as indeed in his estimate it did), I rise. I float, then soar. I glide. Roll. Dip. Dive. Shoot straight up, farther and farther, past wispy clouds into the fire of the sun. Then I plunge straight down, gain velocity, hurtle into beauty. But all without fear, with trust and acceptance, for I have wings: Coltrane wings. All I can ever do, all I would ever want to do, is hang on—or, no, no … let go. Let go with that endlessly fascinating and insinuating sound.
ResolutionIt's no surprise that an artist as gifted and prolific as Coltrane (in 1965 alone he recorded 11 albums) has attracted jazz critics and commentators in abundance. Especially notable in its eloquence and placement of Trane in the big picture of his influence on music is Eric Nisenson's Ascension (St. Martin's, 1993; still in print with Da Capo, 1995). Until this year, two biographies of Coltrane had been published. Now we have what is surely the definitive biography: Lewis Porter's John Coltrane: His Life and Music.
Porter is an associate professor of music and jazz historian at Rutgers University. He has approached his task with extraordinary care and dedication. Porter worked on musical analysis and discographical research of Coltrane for 14 years before beginning this book. He tells us he has read hundreds of articles on Coltrane in English, French, Italian, and German. Concerned for inaccuracies in the earlier biographies, he not only conducted several fresh interviews, but reinterviewed living persons cited in those biographies and transcribed anew tapes of original interviews. He went to the trouble of tracing a Coltrane family genealogy back to the 1830s. He compiled an extensive chronology of Coltrane's life, replete with tour and show dates.
Accordingly, his book stands out for its meticulous detailing. It is now the baseline for establishing key Coltranian dates and events. No less, it stands out for its extensive and technical musical analysis of Coltrane's work (there are 18 pages, for example, devoted to A Love Supreme). For readers like me, who have mastered no musical instrument other than the stereo, most of these passages will be obscure. But they should be a treasure trove for trained musicians and students. No self-respecting conservatory library will be without the book.






