Tyshawn Sorey's recent album, 'Members... Don't!', stands as a profound reinterpretation of Max Roach's seminal 1968 work, 'Members, Don't Git Weary'. This ambitious project transcends a mere collection of covers, transforming the original tracks into spiritual blueprints for an expansive, uninterrupted live suite. Sorey, a celebrated drummer, composer, and bandleader, navigates the intricate tapestry of Black American history and the enduring struggles for racial justice through a unique blend of improvisation and structured musical motifs. The album challenges listeners to confront both historical context and contemporary resonance, offering a journey through a soundscape that is at once demanding and deeply absorbing.
Max Roach's 1968 album emerged during a turbulent period in American history, as the Civil Rights Movement faced growing disillusionment despite legislative victories. The assassinations of leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. and widespread racial unrest fueled a sense of grief and an urgent need for continued resilience within Black communities. Roach's original work provided a soundtrack of hope, incorporating emerging funk and electric jazz elements to inspire perseverance. Sorey's contemporary response, released nearly six decades later, mirrors this sentiment but with a distinct shift in mood, inviting introspection rather than overt buoyancy. His version, recorded live at The Jazz Gallery in New York, extends the original's length significantly, prioritizing emotive depth and the fluid interplay of Black musical traditions.
The album opens with "Abstrusions," immediately signaling its departure from conventional covers. Pianist Lex Korten and trumpeter Adam O’Farrill initiate a free, melancholic dialogue, eschewing the original's funk-driven optimism. O'Farrill's hesitant melodic lines and Korten's dissonant chords, punctuated by Mark Shim's angular saxophone, illustrate a deliberate questioning of joy, guided by Sorey's meticulously evolving drum patterns. Similarly, "Absolutions" defies expectations with Korten's introspective piano leading into a subdued quartet performance. The tension builds through the exchange of solos between Shim and O'Farrill, with Sorey and bassist Tyrone Allen II adding complex flourishes, creating a sense of controlled chaos. These tracks exemplify Sorey's compositional genius, which, despite the challenging pathways, allows the ensemble to maintain cohesion through attentive interplay.
Sorey’s arrangements frequently evoke the structured spontaneity found in David Murray’s octet compositions, where free jazz converges with swing. In pieces like "Effi," the quartet creates an illusion of complete improvisation, with O’Farrill and Shim’s horns intertwining with fiery melodic and rhythmic drive, while Korten introduces jarring musical shapes and unpredictable rhythms. Sorey's drumming is powerfully expressive, almost palpable in its intensity. Yet, amidst this apparent freedom, a discernible call-and-response pattern emerges between the horns around the two-minute mark, suggesting a deeply embedded organizational structure. This characteristic interplay between the improvised and the meticulously planned is a hallmark of Sorey's work, rewarding close listening and highlighting his profound compositional artistry that encourages exploration while maintaining thematic coherence.
While the album largely features acoustic instrumentation, the judicious use of electronics by O'Farrill serves to disorient rather than enhance, adding an ethereal quality. In "Equipose, Pt 1," as the band settles into a serene, spiritual groove, the mix thins out, and the low frequencies gradually recede. The sound transmutes, resembling an aged vinyl recording, suggesting that the live performers are channeling past spirits. O'Farrill's subtle manipulation creates an uncanny illusion, making the musicians appear as if they are a spiritual jazz ensemble reaching across time.
The album's culmination in "Members, Don’t Git Weary" delivers a powerful resolution. Vocalist Fay Victor's scatting, characterized by its choppy yet emotionally rich delivery, resonates with the raw power of blues and gospel. She infuses the melody with both pain and triumph, supported by Shim's sharp saxophone accents that mimic a preacher's passionate responses. As the track builds to a peak, electronic sounds create a fizzling effect, leading into an intense, atonal vocal and saxophone exchange between Victor and Shim. The subsequent eruption of the full band—with horns blaring, keys pleading, and drums thundering—somehow coheres into a swinging, bluesy theme. This triumphant return to clarity from disorder encapsulates the album's core message: a future for Black identity that acknowledges and draws strength from the past without being tethered to it.