Pithecanthropus Erectus

WHAT NYMITH SAYS

You could probably make a case for this being THE album that cut a dividing line between jazz as popular music and jazz as a species of the avant-garde. After Pithecanthropus Erectus it was clear which way the wind was blowing - time to choose a side. Charles Mingus set out to make a few changes. First of all, he started teaching arrangements by ear rather than by writing, paving the way to the improvisational jazz of the future. Second of all, he started composing pieces with certain artists in mind, a refinement at odds with the very notion of jazz standards that can be traded from artist to artist. Third, he started writing tone poems, aligning himself with classical music and abandoning the notion of "swing" altogether. If you view big band as the height of jazz, you might be lukewarm toward Pithecanthropus Erectus.

The personnel he assembled for this 1956 breakthrough include Jackie McLean and J.R. Monterose on alto and tenor saxophone (one of them possessing a marvellously piercing, expressive, borderline bluesy vibe - though I'm not skilled enough to figure out if it's alto or tenor that I'm hearing). On piano is Mal Waldron and drums are supplied by Willie Jones. Mingus, of course, was the bass player and a fine one who did not insist on getting a solo in every song.

There are only four tracks on the album and the titular one lasts for 10:36 duration. It is possibly the most successful tone poem ever attempted by jazz players, centring around the dawn of man and an appropriately ghostly theme. It is broken into several times by frenetic musical chaos meant to represent civilization's perennial undoing in the face of mankind's tendency to fight and enslave. However far a people get, their organization fractures, violence and panic ensue - all of it accurately reflected in the music, first haunting, then dissonant, repeating this structure until the centre can no longer hold and everything collapses with shrieks, terror and if you listen closely you'll hear a devilish oom-pah-pah rhythm take hold and reveal itself. It's not a pleasant or easy listen, but it is a jazz masterpiece as far as I'm concerned.

Their second tone poem experiment is a slightly less successful radicalization of Gershwin's 'A Foggy Day,' lasting only seven minutes (!) this time. It features mimicry of police whistles, car horns and the like - we can only be glad that this was attempted by people who knew what they were doing because it was bound to happen sooner or later. It's annoying but (hipster boast ahead) I made it through Godard's Weekend, compared to which this is nothing, trust me. It improves considerably when Mingus decides they've made their point and can forget the sound effects. Mingus gives himself a solo and they trundle along in a decidedly more upbeat manner (well, it is Gershwin). You might want to write this off on first listen but it's worth getting to know the finer points.

'Profile of Jackie' is the odd one out - a conventional three minute number with a strong melody, showcasing Waldron and the sax players' talent for romantic jazz. I do not know who Jackie was to inspire such an expressive little piece but it gives a glimpse of "conventional" beauty in the middle of all this high art. The record would be missing something without it.

Filling out the album is 'Love Chant,' which despite its name is not an early attempt at vocal jazz polyphony. It's rather a long non-conceptual piece and it's where Pithecanthropus loses me because at 15 minutes it's just too long and features a simple piano riff relentlessly repeated for almost the first third (possibly standing in for the chant?). Once they dispense with that it becomes much more interesting and worth getting lost in. They let the riff creep back in at the end, where it's used much more subtly and effectively and they cede Jones the honour of closing the record on his note (which is really nice because of the cast he commands the least attention). If you don't sit through the first four minutes of 'Love Chant' you really miss the good stuff.

This then is the entirety of Pithecanthropus Erectus, One of the most challenging and rewarding albums of 1956. A must for your jazz collection.

WHAT TICHARU SAYS

Well, I normally like the odd and interesting but I didn't warm too much to Pithecanthropus Erectus. I appreciate that it's different, adventurous, well beyond anything else happening at the time. Maybe I'm shallow but I find all the honks and squeaks and squawks annoying. It will be grooving along and it's rather cool, then it goes discordant for a few bars after which they pull it back together and groove again, not because they actually want to play that way, it's in the score such as it is. For me, that's not inspired dissonance, it's contrived dissonance. I've tried listening with fresh ears. I've played the record quietly, normal volume, loud. Same reaction all three times. I just wanted to turn it off! It's an important record, anyone can see/hear that. You should give it a chance.

If you make it through all the annoying bits you can sit back and enjoy the overly long jam 'Love Chant' at the end of the record (replete with bass solo) when the Mingus bus drives up a somewhat more conventional street where they eventually run out of ideas. Faked out by a couple near miss endings it does eventually end with a little drum solo. I think we've gone back to the cave musically at that point.

I might have genuinely enjoyed seeing this in a club. It would have made a nice change to the standard jazz combos of the day and I'm sure I would have found it delightful. I think the record still would have left me a bit mystified.

If you've made the mistake of reading my review first go on and read the Nymith review. She disagrees on almost every point. She loved this record! Normally we share a similar opinion... not this time.