Essential New Jazz from the Cosmosamatics

Alto sax god Sonny Simmons, who was one of the pioneers of the "new thing" in the 60s, staged a great comeback about a decade back with Ancient Ritual, an album that resonated with such rollicking force that it represented a revival of not only Simmons' career but of the kind of powerful melodic honking that hadn't been heard in many a moon. That album and the subsequent, American Jungle, reestablished Simmons as one of the great living sax men. His career since then has been no less luminous. Now he's back fronting this collective of mostly well-armed stalwarts and the results are predictably first-rate. As far as groups go, this may be the best semi-permanent lineup since Other Dimensions in Music (both groups actually share omnipresent bassist William Parker). The Cosmosamatics also boast tenor player Michael Marcus and drummer Jay Rosen, both seasoned free jazz veterans.

The first notes of "Quasar," the opening track, unfurl kind of like the opening notes of Ornette's Free Jazz. Simmons always was one of the great post-Ornette altoists, and if this album proves anything it's that the kind of uproarious deconstruction that Ornette and his buddies pioneered 40 years ago is still percolating loudly. Not many groups can pull off such a sustained improv effort without sounding monotonous or self-indulgent, but the Cosmosamatics seem to realize that rhythm is still the basis for even the most chaotic exploits. Credit this in large part to Parker. His tone is just so goddamn forceful that it bounces the melodic intertwinings of Simmons and Marcus along as if they were steely winged sailing vessels and he was the mighty sea. New Orleans rhythms also abound, propelled in part by the adroit Rosen.

The next track, "Mingus Mangus," is as its name suggests an homage to Charles Mingus. Starting with a quick quote from Mingus' signature "Moanin'," this composition erupts into a chaotic sequence of diverse rhythm patterns, Parker pulsating the floorboards with his typical rumble-in-the-jungle ambience, Rosen clattering like a ram and the sax-popes Simmons and Marcus writhing beautifully throughout. This is also one of two tracks where James Carter guests on bass sax, emitting a guttural-sounding noise that differs greatly from his usually more-polished method. Carter also blows, honks and skrunks through the closing track, "New Line Groove," which once again finds the combo in primal Ornette territory. It's a nice boost of credibility for Carter, who I've always thought was overrated. I must admit that he does not sound out of place here at all. There's a real nice quality to the interplay between the three horns on this track and once again the rolling thunder of the rhythm section makes it much more than some contrived "experiment" meant to tickle the cockles of sanctimonious partisans like Ken Burns. The whole album has an organic feel that makes it damn near essential listening for anyone interested in jazz as something other than background music for the polite chatter of yuppies. Let it be the springboard for your own interstellar exploration.