Magma debuted in France in 1970 with a double concept album that featured lyrics in an invented language and music in a complex jazz-rock style. The concept was no mere lark, as Christian Vander (drummer, composer, and leader of the enterprise) continued to expand the story about human settlement on a fictional planet called Kobaïa; the invented language used is known as Kobaïan. Magma's music and lyrics are not as much understood as they are felt. The spirituality of late-era John Coltrane was supposedly a huge influence on Vander at the time, and one does not need to decode the meaning of the rhythmically sung syllables in order to understand the deeply spiritual meanings imparted in Magma's songs.
Vander composed so much music throughout the 1970s and early 1980s that much of it never found its way onto an album. Much of this music became known only through live performances and recordings. 1975's Hhai/Live is definitive, but once a new generation of listeners discovered Magma in the early 1990s (including yours truly), a slew of old live performances were released on CD on the band's label, Seventh Records.
In the mid 1970s, Vander and Magma conceived two separate trilogies, each representing different facets of the ongoing Kobaïan saga. The first trilogy, Theusz Hamtaakh, saw the official release of two albums, Ẁurdah Ïtah and
Mëkanïk Dëstruktïẁ Kömmandöh, although the first part of the trilogy, Theusz Hamtaakh, was only performed live. The second trilogy, Ëmëhntëhtt-Ré, only had one studio album, Köhntarkösz, released in the 1970s. In brief, the band had unlimited imagination but a limited budget, and after a flirtation with soul music in the early 1980s, Magma disbanded, seemingly for good.
In the late 1990s, Magma re-formed: still led by Christian Vander but featuring a new cast of young players and singers (along with Christian's wife Stella, who had been in the original band). By this time, they were among my favorite bands, and I traveled to San Francisco with my friend Rob for their appearance at the 1999 ProgFest. Their performance was so overwhelming, I was nearly moved to tears. The band perfectly re-created their complex magnum opuses like "Mëkanïk Dëstruktïẁ Kömmandöh" (all 40 minutes of it) and I considered myself extremely fortunate to have seen it, assuming it was a short-lived reunion.
However, Magma's story did not end there and still has not, as of this writing. Christian Vander pulled out some unreleased works and gave them a proper, full-bodied studio recording. The first of these was KA, which was intended to be the first part of the Ëmëhntëhtt-Ré trilogy. In 2009, the third part was released: Ëmëhntëhtt-Ré itself.
Ëmëhntëhtt-Ré is an ornate suite filled with scatting, operatic vocals, jazzy piano flourishes, busy drumming (Vander is amazing on the drums), and musical sections that rank among their most emotionally potent pieces. My favorite section by far is known as "Hhai", occupying roughly minutes 4 through 15 of the suite's second part. This has long been one of Magma's most beloved pieces and has been played as a standalone song on several live albums (for the record, my favorite version is from Bobino 1981). It features Christian Vander singing the lengthy, emotional introduction (Vander rarely took lead vocals, at least in the early days, but his vocal range is remarkable), followed by a spirited instrumental section and solos, and continuing with a full chorus of voices singing the emotional finale. My description doesn't do it justice, but this track is a cathartic experience. Hearing "Hhai" in the context in which it was originally intended is worth the price of the album by itself.
Magma is definitely an acquired taste and requires a bit of patience. Their repertoire largely consists of huge conceptual epics sung either in Kobaïan or in French, making them a bit inscrutable to many people. To give some perspective for the novice listener, the Mahavishnu Orchestra's Apocalypse (1974) is similar to Magma's vision, as both bands have always placed a high priority on beauty in their music, although the repetitive chorus of voices chanting words you can't understand might be unsettling at first.
I count Magma among my favorite bands ever and look forward to their next release.
Dan:
Since I'm a Magma novice, stuck here on earth, it is difficult to offer insight into this challenging album. It's challenging in a good way, of course, because I've learned that many of my best discoveries in music came via a longer path to understanding and appreciation. I do like what I hear, which generates images of sacred rites conducted in otherworldly places by alien beings. Because Ëmëhntëhtt-Ré is not comparable to anything I know, the common reviewer fallback of comparing it to other albums or groups doesn't work here. So I'll take another tack.
Magma literature frequently cites the influence of John Coltrane's later work on Christian Vander's notions of spirituality. (Vander's Offering project (Magma Présente Offering, 2003) demonstrates his dedication to Coltrane on a 4-CD box set which I've not heard.) I am somewhat of an expert on Coltrane, having read three biographies, heard virtually all of his 103 recorded albums, and currently keep 44 of his albums in my collection of LPs and digital files. I started my Coltrane collection in the early 1960s with the release of My Favorite Things. I surveyed his earlier Prestige albums and owned all of his Impulse! albums. His key sideman roles with Red Garland and Miles Davis were also required acquisitions. Before I turned 21, I saw Coltrane's quartet with McCoy Tyner, Elvin Jones and Jimmy Garrison perform two sets in July 1965 at a small club in Cleveland, Ohio where I grew up.
Trane's late search for self-understanding led him well beyond his best-known works. From 1966 to his death on July 17, 1967, his recordings reflect an almost frenzied quest as he sought to "clean the mirror" to achieve greater self-awareness through his music. His quest was definitely spiritual, as his most famous work, A Love Supreme (1964), attests. But increasingly his music stretched boundaries with respect to themes, improvisations, bandmembers, duration, and cultural influences. Much of it is hard to sit through, especially live performances that included solos lasting close to an hour. His duets with drummers Elvin Jones and later Rashied Ali are intense exercises testing the endurance of both musicians and audiences. These later works were not fully absorbed by jazz musicians, who preferred to show off their Coltrane-isms in tenor solos like Trane's were in the earlier 1960s.
Relatively few artists undertook what Christian Vander is credited with - translating the spiritual essence of Coltrane's obsessive quest into large works for chorus, drums and diverse instruments. Remarkably, Magma's translation captures what I feel about late Coltrane, but I never would have imagined it possible. While the music on Ëmëhntëhtt-Ré does not cover any Coltrane compositions, his spirit seems to be embedded in the proceedings. The Vander-Coltrane connection begins with the drums. The whole Magma ensemble are in conversation with the drums, just as Coltrane's ensembles converse with the polyrhythmic drumming of either Jones or Ali. The extended forms used by Magma also mirror Coltrane's increasingly lengthy performances, such as the sprawling versions "Afro-Blue" on the CD version of Live in Seattle (recorded on 9/30/1965) and Live in Japan (recorded 7/11/1966). Magma also expand the size and range of the ensemble to produce multiple layers of sound, much as Coltrane augmented his own ensembles, especially on Ascension (1966) but also Kulu Sé Mama (1966) and Om (1967).
Both Coltrane and Magma make music of great beauty because of their spiritual inspirations. Neither are "easy listening," but both are rewarding experiences when approached with open ears.
No comments:
Post a Comment