John Coltrane’s been
dead for 50 years. A Love
Supreme still means more
to me, most times I play it, than any
other record.
John Coltrane was 40. And then
dead. I’m older than him now. I’ve beaten him. On
one level – and that feels weird. Should it feel
weird? Does it seem weird to anyone else? Some of
you reading this are (far) older than me – most of
the rest of you
will go on to cap 40 and move from there through
the decades. None of you (us) will make anything
close to A Love Supreme. Or take the sort of
Giant Steps he did with ease. Well, was it ever easy
for John Coltrane?
I had these thoughts – and a few others (you won’t get to see, or hear or
read those) – when I decided to try to put it in perspective…when I
read the date of his death and lined it up with the
times – and thought of my own birthday, just the day
before his death, but a decade and a bit on…
So it’s not significant, I hear you say…
It is.
It is.
It’s terrifying and mystifying and mesmerising and
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
I’ll never do anything close to that – and my own (Only!) comforting
thought is that neither will you.
He was a genius. His sheets of sound still
soothe – still take me to a place where
only sleep can relate…
He was just starting to sort his spiritual, philosophical and human
endeavours/problems – he was just getting to the place he wanted
to be. And then he was fast-tracked, or cut short – or BOTH
and I am still filling most days
by doing this
or That
and not much of either – or anything
really.
And yet, my heart swells with pride
when I hear the rush inside that song, that album, that
style, that sound, that horn, that heart, that hide…it is
some days – where I most want to hide…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…
A Love Supreme…