In the sixties Slugs’ in the outer margins of the East Village swiftly became one of the most notorious jazz dives in town, hosting everyone from avant-garde trailblazers like Ornette Coleman and Archie Shepp to Art Blakey or Sonny Rollins while by the end of the decade the club would become a home away from home for Sun Ra. In 1965 it would capture some of a young Charles Lloyd’s first prominent sets as a leader, and in May of 1966 it bore witness to one of Albert Ayler’s most acclaimed and incendiary performances, which would later be released as Live at Slug’s Saloon. That same year four artists at a crossroads banded together to barrel through the checkpoints and stop signs of hard bop, over the course of a week at Slugs’ whose riotous powers have until now lain dormant in the personal archive of the drummer Jack DeJohnette.
1966 was a banner year for Joe Henderson, as the bold tenor left Horace Silver’s band and amid a swell of guest spots on Blue Note released two of his most cherished albums in the form of Inner Urge and Mode for Joe. The pianist McCoy Tyner had also begun to branch out as a leader, while by the end of 1965 he had resigned from his exemplary role as John Coltrane’s keyboardist of choice, fearing himself lost in the mix as the saxophonist turned towards free jazz and atonality while adding a second drummer. Meanwhile still in his early twenties, DeJohnette had only just moved to New York City, where he would soon become part of the Charles Lloyd Quartet, whose bestselling album Forest Flower would be recorded that autumn at the Monterey Jazz Festival.
The fourth participant in Forces of Nature was the bassist Henry Grimes, who had broken through in the late fifties and played with the likes of Gerry Mulligan, Sonny Rollins and Walt Dickerson but was now in the heady throes of a turn to free jazz which would encompass such seekers and saints as Albert Ayler, Don Cherry, Archie Shepp, Frank Wright, Pharoah Sanders and Cecil Taylor. Part of so many seminal sets, by the late sixties Grimes had moved to California and disappeared from view, often presumed dead but anyway languishing in obscurity until 2002 when he was located and made a winning return to the stage.
Grimes had featured on Tyner’s second album Reaching Fourth, while the pianist had appeared on a trio of Henderson albums from the tenor’s debut Page One to In ‘n Out and then Inner Urge, which has long been regarded as a classic. Henderson would repay the favour a year later by starring on Tyner’s equally acclaimed The Real McCoy, and they had also teamed up recently on Delightfulee, by the trumpeter Lee Morgan whose murder at Slugs’ in 1972 would hasten the demise of the venue. So even as these four musicians found themselves at gaps or turning points in their respective careers, by the time they arrived at Slugs’ to play as a quartet their synapses were firing and their synergies were ready to flow.
Their performances during that week at Slugs’ were caught for posterity by the audio engineer Orville O’Brien, who had already recorded Freddie Hubbard’s The Night of the Cookers and would later work on such albums as Charles Tolliver’s Music Inc. and Alice Coltrane’s Journey in Satchidananda. While nothing came of them back then, DeJohnette wisely requested the reels from O’Brien and kept them in his archive for almost sixty years before a post-Covid wind-down of his touring schedule afforded him with the time to look back on old work. He got in touch with the ‘jazz detective’ Zev Feldman, and the project winded up with Don Was at Blue Note, with mastering by Matthew Lutthans, the trio of Feldman, DeJohnette and his wife Lydia serving as producers, and liner notes by Nate Chinen while Jason Moran, Joe Lovano, Joshua Redman, Christian McBride, Nasheet Waits and Terri Lyne Carrington provide additional thoughts and context.
The mindset of the players allied to their established chemistry and the week-long booking allowed them ample space to go long, as on Forces of Nature: Live at Slugs’ they wring every drop out of four composed tunes plus one improvisation. This isn’t a pulling apart, because in terms of colour and the repetition of key motifs these pieces often adhere quite closely to their originals, but more like four sleuths tramping over every inch of the scene, their torchlights blazing in all directions, or like steam trains rolling crosswise who manage to achieve fresh sonancies as they barrel down the tracks with their bells and whistles.
Starting with the title track from Henderson’s previous album, the billed leaders of this set give new meaning to the phrase ‘In ‘n Out’ as they take turns championing the composition. Playing and improvising for more than twenty-six minutes, over a few choppy piano chords it is the long and gusty, sinuous squalls of Henderson’s saxophone which dominate the first half, while Tyner’s rapid and scampering, hotfooted runs characterise the second, as the pianist plays mostly in the upper register with DeJohnette never slowing down for one second behind the drum kit. As the abiding Grimes tos and fros on his bass, a wheedling and cajoling percussion compels ‘In ‘n Out’ from the twenty-minute mark as Tyner briefly takes more of a backseat, before the horn returns to wrap one last ribbon around the piece.
A plaintive and painterly rendition of the Carl Fischer and Frankie Laine ballad ‘We’ll Be Together Again’ is up next, a fond tune which was seized upon in the late fifties by Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Anita O’Day and Billie Holiday. Tyner recorded it as part of a trio for his third album Nights of Ballads & Blues, and here it is his winding piano arpeggios which carry out the piece, before Henderson bellows on his wistful and dreamy horn as the pianist keeps everything on an even keel, upbeat and duly hopeful. Grimes and DeJohnette make for a handsy rhythm section, forcing the issue a bit more before a finely poised piano solo and an especially deft, pared back showcase by Grimes on his double bass fulfil the promise of the title, with Henderson arriving late once more to supply the nightcap.
‘Taking Off’ on the other hand is pure improvisation, credited to all four of the musicians. It starts out at a fast tempo but they feel their way in until Henderson’s horn becomes untethered, blowing out tornados of sound. The mix here seems a bit muddier in the low end, although it hardly mars the experience as the players take turns soloing, with Henderson wielding his tenor like a cudgel before Tyner twinkles away on the keys. Stretching out the piece over a staggering and heat-seeking twenty-eight minutes, DeJohnette begins to crack into his cymbals with Afro-Cuban and martial beats late in the affair, casting haymakers about his kit and playing drum rolls in a remarkable display of dexterity before a duckwalk on the tenor carries us out the other side and swiftly towards a climax. In the final moments ‘Taking Off’ redoubles its commitment to the groove as Tyner clangs into his keys with a swinging signature.
McCoy Tyner’s composition ‘The Believer’ first saw the light of day as a John Coltrane hangover on Prestige Records. After getting to know Tyner during his time in Philadelphia, the saxophonist recorded his friend’s song during a session which took place on 10 January 1958, more than two years before Tyner would join his group, although the album of the same name was not released until the spring of 1964, by which time the saxophonist and pianist were getting to work on Crescent.
After the intense flurries and dynamic interplay of ‘In ‘n Out’ and ‘Taking Off’, the last two pieces on Forces of Nature: Live at Slugs’ are more temperate, beginning with the piano trills and percussive cascades of ‘The Believer’ which Henderson traces on his horn, before Tyner vocalises over the top of the melody, as Jack DeJohnette’s crashing waves and a series of furrowing piano runs tide us over.
Then the finale is a relatively straightforward rendition of ‘Isotope’ from Inner Urge, a late titan of hard bop which found Henderson paying tribute to Thelonious Monk, reckoning with the hectic pace of life in New York and reflecting upon his childhood with Spanish feeling. This take on ‘Isotope’ with its bluesy romp and jaunty refrains goes not quite as hard as the album version, and its sense of swing is more staggered largely because of DeJohnette’s different temperament to Elvin Jones on percussion, but for these reasons it feels more burnished and bronzed, suiting its purpose here as a kiss-off to the set as Joe returns to the head after a searching solo and some spritely playing from Tyner behind the piano.
