John Coltrane: The importance of being earnest

Listening to the jazz standard "My One and Only Love" lead me to compare two recordings of this tune: One by tenor saxophonist John Coltrane and another by tenor saxophonist Michael Brecker.

John Coltrane playing 'My One and Only Love'

Michael Brecker playing 'My One and Only Love'


Brecker always cited Coltrane as one of his heaviest musical influences. Both men achieved fearsome technical virtuosity on the instrument, setting them apart from their contemporaries. Both performances are in many ways impressive. I am however, left with this nagging sense of disappointment when I listen to Brecker's performance. So I decided to investigate.

On reflection, it seems that my reservations for Brecker's take, are symptomatic of my more general concerns for the state of jazz post John Coltrane. From the late 60s, jazz, for the first time in its history, merged with mainstream pursuits. Before this time, the music had always been for the rebellious, the revolutionary and the underdog. Now, by fusing itself with academia and the status quo establishments, its identify seems to become confused. It no longer possessed its characteristic burgeoning raison d'être. It no longer feels like a clarion call for freedom to live. I hear this confusion in Brecker's take on Guy Wood's tune. I hear the new 'Jazz Studies' college programs that saturate further and higher education institutions. I hear technical idolatry. I hear less attention to content; less attention to narrative. I hear less soul.

It is perhaps unfair to compare the two recordings merely because two largely unrelated saxophonists chose to improvise over the chord progressions of the same old pop song. However, Brecker is solemn in his homage to Coltrane as a musical tutor and inspiration. So his work must expect a certain degree of critical comparison to it. What is more, Coltrane's version is so stripped back and honest, that it seems to serve as an example, to any aspiring jazz musician, of how technique should be subservient to narrative, and how one should never merely turn up to a job only to brandish the vastness of one's toolbox, pack up smugly and leave greatly satisfied.

Jazz is about saying something that needs to be said; said through improvisation, through rhythm, melody and harmony. It requires technique in order to be identifiable as jazz. But this technique should only be discernible retrospectively. It must not be felt to impose upon the performance, lest the experience turn from one of essential democratic wonder, to one of self-indulgent preening.