John Coltrane – Olé Coltrane

I am a vocal critic of the stereo mixes on most of the 60s masterpieces, and actively seek out first year Mono pressings of everything 1960s that I can in order to avoid the harsh hard-pans on main instruments that result in disjointed spatial environments and awkward social playback. I own two 1961 Mono presses of this, but have come into this stereo now as well and just wanted to come here and leave a comment for others to know to seek this press out. It has the highest median price of the 1961s, unfortunately, but for good reason. Despite the panning still being overextended in places (more on B side), for much of this one, the panning does not cause as many problems as the increased space brings positive life and depth.

Even beyond the spatial life of the stereo mix, my copy of this particular press just sounds fantastic in general. This is a very rare example of a 1960s hard panned classic where the first year stereo is actually the correct press to my ear.

Percussion section dominated by McCoy Turner on piano lays down a hypnotic groove that provides the foundation for stunning solos by all band members. Coltrane anchors his title track around the Spanish folk song El Vito. This album is seductive and complex and challenges the listener’s musical expectations. Clearly conceived as Coltrane’s answer to Miles Davis’s Sketches of Spain, this album pushes more boundaries with its free jazz styling

A daring album filled with nuance, pedigree and a large lush sound, one in a line of Coltrane albums that not only takes considered steps forward and back, but from side to side as well, causing me to wonder … what is it that John Coltrane’s looking for in music, or perhaps more aptly, within himself that he’s been attempting to bring to fruition. While listeners are inspirationally delighted with his offerings, this man who genuinely appears spiritually shaken for his cause, has never offered up anything that hasn’t been breathtakingly original, emanating nothing short of a pure life filled with exploration from his saxophone. And Ole’ Coltrane is nothing less.

With everyone except Elvin Jones soloing on Ole’, an album awash with the interplay of twin bass leads rides on a mysterious current, often infused, though at times I’d like to say infected with traditional blues intonations, all delivered while Trane dances between his traditional soprano saxophone and that of the tenor, where the lineage of his scripted musical thoughts flow from one instrument to the other, as if he were ambidextrous in his use of these two, instruments that do not stand in juxtaposition to each other, but as seamless bookends, deriving from and delivering a single continuous thought.

Ole’ is nothing like Trane’s advanced sonically challenging later years, nor is it encapsulated as were his early and very accessible bodies of work, placing him here at the proverbial crossroads, where he’s never sounded more delicate, yet with a definable resolve that will carry him further. Yet right here, right at this moment, and for all of time, listeners have the privilege of hearing a Coltrane transition as he explores the dynamics of a large group format and the emancipation it has to offer, spotlighting Elvin Jones, McCoy Tyner, Reggie Workman, Freddie Hubbard, and of course Eric Dolphy … making me wonder if this gathering is an ensemble, a band, or a septet of some sort.

With the presentation of only three tracks, it’s easy to settle in for the ride, shake off the worries and wash yourself in Trane’s enunciations. I’ve always admired this body of work, always considered it to be essential, though only recently have come to consider that perhaps it’s the transitional nature of this album, the fact that he was departing Atlantic records, where he stood in the doorway, one foot deeply rooted in his past acting as a balance, while the other foot was already stepping into the future, where this record can be seen as parting gift of sorts to Atlantic and those who’d taken so many steps with him.

The album is not explorative in its nature, nor is it conceptual, though that being said, it is fresh passionate and rewarding, casting a nearly hypnotic spell, parting the curtains, overlooking some sort of imagined white stuccoed village on the coast of north Africa, a place I’ll never discover in reality. Nevertheless, in my mind, a place filled with bohemian values and a comforting lifestyle of wanderlust, where I can lounge about in silk pajamas in a room feathered with thick carpets, floor pillows and an overly stuffed listening chair.

Review by Jenell Kesler