Copenhagen Live 1964: Albert Ayler Quartet’s Free Jazz Firestorm
Alright, buckle up, because Copenhagen Live 1964 by the Albert Ayler Quartet is not your grandma’s jazz record (unless she was a total avant-garde badass). Released in 2017 on the Swiss label hatOLOGY, this album feels like eavesdropping on a cosmic jam session where no one cared about rules—and honestly? It’s glorious.
Let’s break it down. You’ve got Albert Ayler blowing tenor saxophone like he’s trying to summon aliens, Don Cherry adding his cornet magic with that mischievous twinkle, Gary Peacock holding down the double bass like a rockstar, and Sunny Murray smashing drums as if they insulted his mom. Together, they create chaos—but wait, not just any chaos. This is organized chaos, the kind that makes you feel smarter for listening to it even though you might not fully understand what’s happening.
Now, let’s talk tracks. The setlist includes gems like “Vibrations,” “Saints,” “Spirits,” “Children,” and “Mothers.” But two cuts stuck in my brain harder than last week’s burrito stain: “Vibrations” and “Children.”
“Vibrations” kicks things off with Ayler’s sax squealing like an overcaffeinated bird who just discovered free will. It’s raw, unhinged, and somehow still soulful—like hearing someone laugh-cry during a therapy session. Meanwhile, Don Cherry’s cornet dances around like it can’t decide whether to comfort or challenge Ayler. By the time Gary Peacock’s bass rolls in, you’re either nodding along like a bobblehead or questioning every life choice that led you here. Either way, mission accomplished.
Then there’s “Children,” which sounds like a playground brawl between geniuses. Ayler switches gears from frenetic wailing to something almost tender, proving he could do soft and loud without breaking a sweat. Sunny Murray’s drumming here is wild but precise, like he’s conducting lightning strikes instead of beats. It’s playful yet haunting—a musical paradox that leaves you thinking, “Wait…was that real?”
The production quality is solid for a live recording from 1964. Kudos to Peter Pfister for mastering this beast and making it sound crisp enough for modern ears. And shoutout to Derek Taylor’s liner notes—they’re basically required reading if you want to decode the madness.
So yeah, Copenhagen Live 1964 isn’t background music—it’s foreground music. It demands attention, respect, and maybe a stiff drink. Listening to it feels like stepping into a parallel universe where jazz grew fangs and started howling at the moon.
Final thought? If aliens ever invade Earth, I’m blasting this album through speakers so loud it rattles their spaceships. Because if humanity has to go out, we might as well go out swinging—with Albert Ayler leading the charge.
