Depending on my mood, were someone to ask me what’s wrong with the state of popular music today (and if I may be so bold, the world in general), my response would probably be, “Folks don’t listen to enough John Coltrane.” Sure, you’re likely to discover at least one ‘Trane platter or disc in the average healthy music collection – a Giant Steps (1959) here, a Blue Train (1957) there, and possibly A Love Supreme (1965) somewhere – but it takes a pretty hefty amount of gumption and courage to venture into the turbulent waters of Coltrane’s later-era work (roughly ’65 until his death in July ’67), where run-of-the-mill blowing themes have mutated into noisy, hostile sound-worlds. This is the territory where Coltrane transcends corporeal terms like “jazz musician” or “great saxophonist” for more applicable designations like “immortal” or “saint.” It also sends unprepared dilettantes running for the hills in terror, palms over their ears.

Few discographies are more intimidating for a musician with such a brief window of studio recordings – roughly a mere decade (’57-’67) in Coltrane’s case. His catalogue can be divided into three distinct eras based on label association: his early “sheets of sound” phase on Prestige and Blue Note, the middle Atlantic Records years, and his Classic Quartet recordings and experimental works on Impulse!. It is this last period that has been the most discussed, dividing both critics and fans, and perplexing jazz scholars looking for an easy explanation behind Coltrane’s restless musical pursuits. The quartet that the saxophonist assembled in 1962 – comprised of pianist McCoy Tyner, bassist Jimmy Garrison, and drummer Elvin Jones – is considered today one of the most revered in the jazz canon, a breakthrough unit of minds and talent that breached beyond the confines of hard bop and helped established the parameters for the avant-garde, guided by the leader’s deeply spiritual sonic explorations.

Pity the poor soul thumbing through the “Jazz” racks at Barnes & Noble, innocently seeking some light evening dinner music and arriving home with their very own copy of Kulu Se Mama (1965). As with most of the great jazz legends whose output, official or unofficial, stretches into the triple digits, some guidance is necessary. The following ten records are what I believe to be the most essential of Coltrane’s Impulse! work, albeit under the unlikely presumption that the eager neophyte has $150 in disposable income to drop on an artist they know very little about. The rest can pick and choose based on their level of comfort and/or taste for adventure.

The Complete Africa/Brass Sessions Impulse! 1995 Originally recorded May-June 1961

Coltrane’s first outing for Creed Taylor’s label was a larger-scale project utilizing a sizable horn ensemble to supplement the quartet (although technically Garrison had not yet joined at this stage), resulting in a rich, expansive palette for which he could apply his broad strokes of tenor. The Africa/Brass (1995) charts were penned by Eric Dolphy, pianist Tyner, and the leader, and foreshadow to an extent the larger orchestrations that Coltrane would experiment with on Ascension (1965) (see below). The playing is top-notch all around, and Coltrane even unleashes the fluttering of his soprano on the waltz-inflected “Greensleeves,” which by now had become something of a custom for him wherever a 6/8 pulse appeared. Jones, in particular, seems absolutely enthralled by the surroundings, creating swells of shuffling polyrhythms to accent the soloists. This double-disc set tends to be on the pricier side, but every moment is worth it, and yes, you do need to hear all three takes of the majestic “Africa.”

“Song of the Underground Railroad” – John Coltrane 6:44 (The Complete Africa/Brass Sessions, Impulse 1995)

Live at The Village Vanguard: The Master Takes Impulse! 1998 Originally recorded November 1961

The released documentation of Coltrane’s residency at The Village Vanguard in November of ‘61 suffered from inaccuracies for years – from who played on what to what was recorded when – but with the release of the four-disc The Complete 1961 Village Vanguard Recordings (1997), the confusion appears to have been clarified. Meanwhile, the inquisitive novice should begin with The Master Takes (1998) before meticulously comparing takes within the box set, as the essentials from this historic session are all here: Dolphy’s gutteral bass clarinet on the opener “Spiritual,” the leader’s brilliant theme deconstruction on “Impressions” (one of his most analyzed solos to date), the hypnotic twin-bass drone of “India,” and the riveting quarter-hour of the John Gilmore-inspired “Chasin’ the Train,” which almost holds the same shock value as it did when it first appeared nearly 50 (!) years ago. Obsessives can and should splurge on the four-disc package, which is thoroughly and exquisitely annotated, but this five-song collection will suffice quite nicely for most listeners.

“Impressions” – John Coltrane 14:52 (Live at the Village Vanguard: The Master Takes, Impulse! 1998)

Ballads Impulse! 1962 Originally recorded September-November 1962

Normally I’d never recommend a record comprised entirely of ballads from any artist, but Coltrane was so phenomenal at handling slower tempos that it would be almost criminal to overlook Ballads (1962). The leader was suffering from dental problems at the time and was having difficulty with his embouchure, so in effect, Ballads was released as a sort of concession until his mouth healed and he regained his articulation. All of the standards here, from “Too Young to Go Steady” to “Nancy (With the Laughing Face)” are handled with class and dignity, never sinking to the level of tepid cocktail-piano pleasantry. Ballads will warmly cloak you with its dark intimacy, and few records of the era are as conducive to a lonely evening with your bottle of choice.

“You Don’t Know What Love Is” – John Coltrane 5:14 (Ballads, Impulse! 1962)

Crescent Impulse! 1964 Originally recorded April-June 1964

I’ve covered Crescent (1964) on the site before, including it on my list of Ten Non-Essential Jazz Platters last summer, and I still feel it’s the best overall representation of what this quartet could accomplish, despite its slightly grab-bag presentation. The record’s price is justified alone by the inclusion of two of Coltrane’s most jaw-dropping ballads, Tyner’s piano feature “Wise One” and “Lonnie’s Lament,” which features a haunting extended bass solo from Garrison. Other than his commanding tenor on the title track and the brief mid-album break-in-mood “Bessie’s Blues,” Coltrane cedes the majority of the playing to his band, only resurfacing during the second half of the record to engage in some sax/drum interplay on Jones’ showcase “The Drum Thing,” which closes the album. Crescent has always been popularly referred to as ‘Trane’s “darkest” record, and indeed, compared to the halo-like radiance emitted by its nearest sibling, it is certainly much more introspective and contemplative. It’s a fine place to start, with something here to satisfy everyone.

“Wise One” – John Coltrane 9:01 (Crescent, Impulse! 1964)

A Love Supreme Impulse! 1965 Originally recorded December 1964

Rarely has the word ‘timeless’ been better suited to a jazz record. I can’t in good conscience recommend another item on this list over A Love Supreme, so if you can only acquire one, make it this one. For those who’ve never heard a note of it, I’ll try my best to disguise my envy at the enlightenment you’re about to experience. A Love Supreme marvelously achieved everything Coltrane was working to accomplish up until then, his own personal poem to God that remains unparalleled in jazz to this day; even the staunchest atheist would be moved by its awesome power. In an alternate universe, a copy of A Love Supreme can be found in every hotel nightstand across the country. I couldn’t possibly elaborate upon this record without recycling what has been written before. It’s perfection, and you should own it. I’ll leave it at that.

“Resolution” – John Coltrane 7:25 (A Love Supreme, Impulse! 1965)

The John Coltrane Quartet Plays Impulse! 1965 Originally recorded February-May 1965

The John Coltrane Quartet Plays (1965) is an odd curve in the Coltrane trajectory. After the spiritual catharsis of A Love Supreme, the leader seemed to be in a kind of limbo during the following months, not wanting turn his back entirely on form and structure yet hesitant to dive headfirst into the unexplored realms of free jazz (or The New Thing, as the kids were calling it back then). On the surface, these sessions appear to be pieced together to tide over fans while the leader was immersed in the planning stages of Ascension, but as a four-song package it holds together surprisingly well. Art Davis steps in to play arco second bass on the popular Nat King Cole vehicle “Nature Boy,” while the group rips through the modal waltz “Chim Chim Cheree,” one of the last instances of Coltrane’s soprano playing. The two Coltrane originals, “Brasilia” and “Song of Praise,” are much more introspective but no less potent. It’s convenient to think of Plays as a minor stepping stone between the towers of A Love Supreme and Ascension, but it’s far more deserving of a critical re-evaluation as its own unique entity.

“Song of Praise” – John Coltrane 9:51 (The John Coltrane Quartet Plays, Impulse! 1965)

The Major Works of John Coltrane Impulse! 1992 Originally recorded June-October 1965

Unequivocally essential. The monolithic The Major Works of John Coltrane (1992) gathers both 40-minute editions of the free-jazz collective improv “Ascension,” the surreal Kalahari journey “Kulu Se Mama,” and arguably the strangest item in the Coltrane discography, “Om,” an experiment reportedly committed to tape while the leader was in the midst of an intense acid trip. “Ascension” is often compared to Ornette Coleman’s Free Jazz (1960) in scope and length, yet where Coleman took advantage of a double-quartet ensemble, Coltrane employed an eleven-piece band for a studied examination of unrestrained group improvisation. The lineup is of an all-star caliber: Freddie Hubbard, John Tchicai, Archie Shepp, Pharoah Sanders, Art Davis; the list goes on. Chord changes could be ignored or adhered to, solo structures followed a loose guideline of dynamics, modes were indicated by hand signals, and all the while the three-man rhythm section crashed and tumbled underneath. “Ascension” signaled Coltrane’s increasingly-apparent desires to move beyond the confines of the standard quartet, whose restrictions prevented his need to explore the impenetrable slabs of sound and volume he heard in his head. The other pieces included here aren’t quite as significant, but are no less fascinating and are most certainly worth having. The Major Works isn’t something you’d play while getting ready for a Saturday night at the club, but given some patience and the right frame of mind, one can get lost inside this set for months.

“Acension (Edition II) (Excerpt)” – John Coltrane 7:56 (The Major Works of John Coltrane, Impulse! 1992)

Sun Ship Impulse! 1971 Originally recorded August 1965

Even regular Coltrane devotees like myself tend to overlook Sun Ship (1971), recorded shortly after Ascension. Besides the misleading cover image (Coltrane doesn’t play soprano anywhere on the record), the record’s chief distinguishing trait from its peers is the fidelity, as it was one of the rare studio sessions not engineered by Rudy Van Gelder; the result is a rougher, murkier mix that suits the music surprisingly well. Coltrane’s solos here veer toward the raucous kinetic energy characteristic of Pharoah Sanders and Archie Shepp, and Tyner, whose unease and reservations were reflected in his playing by this point, demonstrates remarkable fluidity and what can best be described as a compelling tangentiality in his solos. Jones, on the other hand, sounds downright angry, firing shotgun-like bursts from his kit at the leader, while Garrison again almost steals the show with a bass solo that encompasses over half of the ten-minute “Ascent” (no, Coltrane didn’t exactly have a Mingus-like flair for distinctive song titles). Coltrane’s post-Love Supreme sessions tend to have a reputation as documents of group discomposure, the quartet’s once-telekinetic interplay threatening to implode from the gravity of Coltrane’s vision; Sun Ship proves that this wasn’t always the case.

“Amen” – John Coltrane 8:14 (Sun Ship, Impulse! 1971)

Meditations Impulse! 1965 Originally recorded November 1965

Meditations qualifies as my personal favorite of Coltrane’s Impulse! catalogue, a 40-minute colossus of raw, noisy power interrupted only by glistening moments of serenity. Essentially two lengthy suites that originally occupied one side of the record each, the leader actually recorded the same material ten months earlier with just the quartet, subsequently released as First Meditations (1965). For this later session, Coltrane augmented the group with a percussionist who specialized in the kind of pulse-less white noise he was searching for, a young Philadelphian named Rashied Ali, as well as the wild tenor sax of Pharoah Sanders (who had participated in “Ascension,” above). Jones wasn’t exactly thrilled by the addition of a second drummer and at times appears to be competing with Ali, struggling to establish himself over the cacophony. Indeed, it is this very conflict which only serves to amplify the intensity of the record. Coltrane seems enthralled by his new surroundings, scaling hitherto-unreachable heights with his playing, and while Sanders only contributes to two tracks (the blistering opener “The Father and The Son and The Holy Ghost” and “Consequences”), at times he sounds as if he’s a wild boar being skinned alive, such is the furious determination in his squealing altissimo. Tyner puts his best foot forward, but it’s pretty obvious he has no idea what the hell is going on; it would be his last recorded session with the group. This is not an easy album to sit through and is undoubtedly one of the more challenging listens in the Coltrane canon, but Meditations is absolutely gripping from start to finish.

“Love” – John Coltrane 8:10 (Meditations, Impulse! 1965)

Interstellar Space Impulse! 1974 Originally recorded February 1967

Coltrane’s last studio project, recorded just a few months before his death at age 40, was a series of duets with drummer Rashied Ali and posthumously titled Interstellar Space (1974), released seven years later. By this point, Coltrane was working to establish a pure-sound environment free of song structure, tempo, and the confines of tonal harmony, and the unorthodox Ali was the perfect foil for his muse. Considering its title as well as the selections named after planets in the solar system, comparisons to the cosmos and beyond are inevitable, but I’ve always heard this record as inherently terrestrial, Coltrane’s channel of tenor burrowing, splitting, and colliding against Ali’s shifting geologic architecture. Sonically, this is as bare-bones as Coltrane got, and with the absence of a pulse or harmonic counterpart, Interstellar Space can’t be approached like the earlier Impulse! selections. Yet there is a peaceful solace underlining the cacophony here, as if Coltrane knew he was clearly onto something, his spiritual nirvana through music nearing its full awakening. Sadly, he would leave this world before reaping the fruits of his discovery, but the path he cleared for the rest of us has yielded enough rewards to last a lifetime.

“Venus” – John Coltrane 8:36 (Interstellar Space, Impulse! 1974)

BUT WHAT ABOUT…?

Impressions (Impulse! 1961)
A fine supplement to any Coltrane collection, but with its two best cuts (”India” and the title track) found on Live at The Village Vanguard: The Master Takes (above), Impressions (1961) doesn’t qualify as required listening, although many will seek this out on the inclusion of one of Coltrane’s most breathtaking ballads, “After the Rain.”

John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman (Impulse! 1963)
The John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman (1963) project was suggested to ‘Trane by his producer Bob Thiele and was recorded in March of ‘63, following Ballads (above). Some lovely tunes, to be sure, but hardly mandatory.

Duke Ellington and John Coltrane (Impulse! 1962)
This somewhat frustrating curiosity would seem to have “classic” plastered all over it, but on Duke Ellington and John Coltrane (1962) it’s the latter player whose enthusiasm called in sick that day. Another date at the suggestion of Thiele, but Coltrane’s heart just wasn’t in this.

Stellar Regions (Impulse! 1995)
A collection of recordings made just before Coltrane’s death and curated by wife Alice Coltrane, Stellar Regions (1995) is more of an assortment of unpolished studio outtakes than the requisite companion piece to Interstellar Space (above) that it’s often made out to be.

Coltrane for Lovers (Impulse! 2001)
Are you kidding? Go buy a Chet Baker compilation or something – the point of this post has flown completely over your head.