A true restless spirit, guitarist Marc Ribot has tackled everything from avant noise to Cuban music to session work with Elvis Costello and Serge Gainsbourg. On Spiritual Unity, Ribot expands the breadth of his discography once again, this time paying tribute to the self-described Holy Ghost, tenor saxophonist Albert Ayler. Ribot, who was born during Eisenhower’s first term, claims that he has studied the free-jazz icon for decades. But what emerges on Spiritual Unity sounds less like by-the-numbers versioning than Ribot’s own, rocked-up take on New Thing jazz. Granted, the rhythm section, comprised of bassist and Ayler alumnus Henry Grimes and drummer Chad Taylor, create turbulent waves worthy of the subject's best recordings. And trumpeter Roy Campbell, like Ayler’s onetime foil Don Cherry, offers tight, melodic counterpoint to the constant sturm und drung. Still, Ribot will never be mistaken for anyone else: The nimble-fingered six-stringer is forever picking energetic, angular lines that weave a half-century's worth of rock, jazz, and whatsis into every measure. As such, it is a joy to hear him in such a freewheeling context-a setting that gives him ample space to stretch out and explore the ether.
– Brent Burton
The phone rang shortly after I put on Spiritual Unity’s self-titled CD for the first time. And recognizing track two as Albert Ayler’s “Spirits” from the next room, I thought for a moment there that I was hearing a tenor saxophone — it was Marc Ribot on guitar, heavy on the tremolo. There are really only two types of jazz guitarists anymore: the chord nerds who drool over “Have You Met Miss Jones” and the tone scientists like Ribot who recognize Ayler as kin to Charlie Patton and Dock Boggs. Leaving out the saxophone works in Spiritual Unity’s favor: Ribot, trumpeter Roy Campbell, drummer Chad Taylor, and back-from-oblivion bassist Henry Grimes are going for Ayler’s essence, not his sound, and invidious comparisons are avoided. Turning cowboy on “Bells,” Ribot sounds like he’s thinking about his darling Clementine rather than Ayler’s holy ghost &mdsah; a lovely, reflective moment before the crash-bang ending. More than just lending a touch of authenticity, Grimes’s powerful bowing keeps everyone on an even keel as they switch from Slug’s-era lurch to square dance to (I swear) polka. Taylor dances nimbly on his cymbals, and the criminally underrated Campbell is his usual puckish self. Spirits rejoice! Just what we needed to complete the long overdue Albert Ayler renaissance.
– Francis Davis
One of the original giants of 1960’s free jazz, saxophonist Albert Ayler’s simple folk melodies and catchy march themes are easily the most instantly recognizable yet curiously the least covered or emulated. Guitarist Marc Ribot’s Spiritual Unity is an attempt to bring Ayler’s music into the future by re-imagining these primal works with an electro-acoustic quartet.
From Tom Waits and Elvis Costello to the Lounge Lizards and John Zorn, Ribot is the consummate Downtown scenester. Following his muse from the early “fake-jazz” of his own Rootless Cosmopolitans to exploring Afro-Cuban rhythms with his Los Cubanos Postizos, Ribot has always had an ear for the primal. Shrek was Ribot’s early attempt to translate the energetic qualities of Ayler’s passionate acoustic free jazz sensibilities to an electric guitar ensemble. With Spiritual Unity Ribot has assembled a quartet that not only mirrors Ayler's own classic quartet line-ups, but even features an original member.
With Henry Grimes, Ayler’s original bassist, Spiritual Unity has a link to the past that provides a solid conceptual as well as sonic foundation. Despite Grimes’ decades long hiatus from performing, he sounds utterly confident here and holds down the bottom end as readily as he uses his arco playing to invoke Ayler’s frequent use of violins and cellos in his later music. Drummer Chad Taylor’s approach to the intrinsic freedom found in these tunes is one of freely modulated pulse and embodies as much textural coloration as blazing forward momentum. Trumpeter Roy Campbell, a long time admirer of the late Don Cherry (one of Ayler’s many horn partners) holds up the front line with splintery abstract glee one moment, somber lyricism the next. It is Ribot’s own angular electric guitar improvisations that propel the album into the future however. Utilizing an edgy overdriven sound to conjure Ayler’s own primal tenor shreik, Ribot bridges the gap between free jazz saxophone skronk and rock guitar wail.
The tunes themselves are mere melodic skeletons, sketched out head melodies designed for intensive improvisation. Subtly updating the old man’s original formula, Ribot has managed to transmit Ayler’s timeless folk tunes into the next century. Unconcerned with tricky time changes and complex multipart themes utilized by so many other Downtown improvisers, this session is one of unfettered free blowing. The only non-studio track, the closer “Bells,” recorded live at Tonic, is a perfect example of the quartet’s methodology. Riding a simple melody from barely audible pointillism to burn out collective improvisation and back again, these four conjure everything from plaintive sing song cadences to frenzied electric melt down.
Spiritual Unity not only breathes life into classic post-war free jazz tunes, but provides an easy entrance for those unfamiliar with the folksy delirium of Albert Ayler’s oeuvre.
– Troy Collins
Guitarist Marc Ribot, formerly of the Lounge Lizards and sometime partner of Marianne Faithfull, Tom Waits and John Zorn, has been involved in his share of unusual projects, but this one might be the most unexpected: a tribute to the late saxophonist Albert Ayler’s music of the 1960s. The band catches the group’s rough-hewn, trancelike sound with uncanny accuracy, with Ayler’s bassist, Henry Grimes, back in action for the project at age 70. But this is no sentimental tourist trip: it's an attempt to reignite the transported atmosphere that the old band discovered through a mix of simple materials, church- and street-music, blues and selfless free-fall interplay.
– John Fordham