Pharoah Sanders:
Living Up to the Name
An unforgettable shock of white hair juts from his chin in stark contrast with the color of the brass, and punctuates the mouthpiece of the horn belonging to Pharoah Sanders, the soul stirring tenor saxophonist from the Bay Area by way of Little Rock, Arkansas. Once known around the bay as Little Rock, Sanders soon replaced his given name, Farrell with Pharoah, and set about living up to the title – from the elongated beard to the unforgettable powerhouse of a stage presence created by his wailing vibrato and the mystical compositions that have come to typify his catalog.
Sanders began as the child of musicians, quickly tapping into inherent musicianship with a stint on clarinet before picking up the tenor saxophone as a teen at the behest of high school band director and mentor, Jimmy Cannon, who would later introduce Sanders to the world of jazz following a primary interest in the blues. Taking to jazz, Sanders came of age under the tutelage of bebop and free jazz enthusiasts during his time playing around Oakland, California, before moving to New York City. After arriving in the big apple, Sanders played with a number of giants in the world of free jazz, including Don Cherry, Billy Higgins, and Sun Ra. What makes his ascent in the city’s musical scene most intriguing is that Sanders was often found working odd jobs, sleeping on subways, and prone to pawning his horn in order to stay afloat despite the attention and respect of such noted collaborators – the unfortunate and all too familiar hallmarks of life as an artist for many people across eras and talents.
Sanders played in relative anonymity until a chance encounter with John Coltrane at New York’s Village Gate during a performance with his first trio in 1963; the group also included bassist Wilbur Ware and pianist John Hicks. Sanders recorded his first album as a leader for ESP in 1964 with Pharoah’s First. The same year, Coltrane asked Sanders to sit in with his band, beginning a professional relationship that would extend into other branches of the Coltrane family catalog and ultimately made Sanders an unofficial member of his band from 1964 until the group dissolved in 1967, following Coltrane’s death. Both musicians noted for the emotion with which they lead their respective bands, Sanders’ profoundly raw approach was the kind of unabashed nudity that served as great punctuation to Coltrane’s ascending emotional gravitas. Sanders continued the relationship post-Coltrane, as he collaborated briefly with the late musician’s wife, Alice Coltrane.
His is a tenor characterized by bursts of climactic fury that precede difficult pauses where theme and percussion often blend to create the multi-layered sound that any fan of Sanders’ can recognize almost immediately. The only traits of Sanders’ music as distinctive as his individual performance are the contributions of his longtime collaborators and peers during the changing of the avant-garde, as world music slowly leeched into the landscape where brass and percussion were king. Suddenly Sanders is pushed to the fore as he leads musicians like Idris Muhammad, Walter Booker, John Hicks, Reggie Workman, and Lonnie Liston Smith; all noted amongst the many pioneers of fusion and experimental jazz.
Combined with free love, spiritual enlightenment, demands for world peace, and the reclamation of African cultural identity as a major move away from the hallmarks of colonialism for black Americans, the end of the 1960′s saw the rise of a wide array of musicians incorporating influences and instruments that had not been previously explored or popularized to any great fanfare. Sanders spent time away from the tenor saxophone on the reed flute, orchestra chimes, congas, bell tree, contrabass clarinet, kalimba, and other percussion. This was the time when the sitar, tribal drum, and astral plane all found themselves in high demand. Sanders’ ear for gleaning melodic beauty from what could be considered an intermittently abrasive performance style, coupled with his versatility as a musician is likely what led to his signature sound. That and his penchant for overblowing; a technique facilitated by the use of a split reed.
While Sanders’ catalog spans several labels, it is punctuated by the common themes of spirituality, humanity, musical freedom, and the voice of singer Leon Thomas. Thomas, of Flying Dutchman fame, lent the echo of his warbling vibrato to many of Sanders’ tunes and performances, most notably on Sanders’ chant of a jazz classic, “The Creator Has a Master Plan,” from the 1969 album Karma. The original version of the track is over 30 minutes long and in some circles, stands as the unofficial follow-up to Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme;” both tracks a commentary on enlightenment and ascension in a pool of distinctly addictive melody. Other notable releases from this period include Tauhid, Black Unity, Jewels of Thought, and Thembi.
While the relationship between Thomas and Sanders flourished over several recordings, Sanders’ choice of universally relevant themes has managed to stand the test of time more memorably than any other aspect of his catalog – even as the frequency of his releases has decreased over the past three decades. With lyricism as touching as his solos, Sanders has turned a career in recording into something closer to a ministry, informed as much by an unmistakable sound as it is by a philosophy explained in the words of his very simple plea: “There is a place where love forever shines, and rainbows are the shadows of a presence so divine, and the glow of that love lights the heavens above, and it’s free, can’t you see, come with me.”
Words by Karas Lamb
