Henry Threadgill Very Very Circus Plus
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Threadgill was an early member of Chicago’s Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (he played in Sunday’s reunion of the Muhal Richard Abrams Experimental Band, ostensibly the first AACM group), and perhaps no one has adopted the organization’s motto, “From the ancient to the future,” with as much vehemence as he has. His phenomenal unit Air, formed in 1971 with bassist Fred Hopkins and the late drummer Steve McCall, virtually redefined the pianoless trio, audaciously revamping classics by Scott Joplin and Jelly Roll Morton and placing them side by side with a large body of originals. The group used the format to focus on structural ingenuity, developing and releasing tension, and complex multilinear exposition rather than as a vehicle for loose blowing. Threadgill was also toying with unusual forms on his own. In 1979 he released the solo album X-75 Volume 1, boldly pairing a quartet of reed instruments with the same number of bassists.
For most of the 80s Threadgill performed with the mighty Henry Threadgill Sextet–which in keeping with the leader’s unusual sense of humor was actually a seven-member combo, the two drummers counting as a single participant. The outfit, consisting of bass, cello, a pair of drummers, trumpet, trombone, and the leader’s alto and flute, gave Threadgill’s sublime composing and arranging skills an opportunity to coalesce into a gorgeous, economic reality that caused many a critic to place him on a continuum with Duke Ellington and Charles Mingus. For the most part the band’s instrumentation was redolent of jazz tradition, but Threadgill’s writing and execution employed increasingly diverse influences, including gospel, blues, marches, ragtime, and R & B as well as some Latin and European sensibilities. At the end of the decade, after six albums with the group, Threadgill decided to move on.
Accordion player Tony Cedras and vocalist Sentienla Toy joined the group for a few tunes–an addition that heightened Threadgill’s dramatic palette and showcased his inclusivity. Particularly striking was their reading of “Hyla Crucifer…Silence Of.” Ross delivered piquant flamenco-esque arpeggios on a tiny soprano guitar while the tubas produced mournful, pulsing drones and Cedras’s accordion oozed long, melancholy lines reminscent of some mythical French open-air cafe. The sadness of the waltz became more provocative and beautiful when Taylor’s elegant, arching lines followed Toy’s sultry singing. The highly lyrical, off-kilter torch song climaxed with an attack of jarring sound before dissolving into a gentle puff. AkLaff opened “Vivjanrondirkski” with dense, fragmented statements that grew into a blooming shower of polyrhythmic narrative and concluded in a groove that served as an opening for the rest of the group.
