I’m sorry to all the other musicians that released a record this last Friday. You lost. I don’t care who the fuck you are. John Coltrane’s classic quartet: Elvin fucking Jones, Jimmy Goddamn Garrison, McCoy Mcfuckin’ Tyner, and the man himself dropped a hot new album this last Friday … what the fuck?
This pre-eminent quartet recorded this album back in ’63. All these years later Coltrane’s first wife Naima finds it and releases it. Huh? What type of house do you live in where you just end up finding a recording from one of the most highly regarded jazz quartets of all time? I wonder how fabergé scrambled eggs taste with that diamond dust coffee. Or, alternatively, her place is crammed full of recordings. Each room must be filled with stacks of reel to reel. But, even then, if there was even a slight chance one of them happened to be a 1963 John Coltrane recording, I’d pick through that shit like a highly competitive coked out adult obnoxiously winning at a child’s Easter egg hunt. Maybe she’s just a pack rat and it was hard to find anything amongst the stacks of newspapers, coffee cups, and collector edition WNBA bobblehead dolls. But this seems improbable. No, most likely, Juanita Naima Coltrane stashed this shit away for a rainy day. And by rainy day, I mean “I need that fucking money, bitch” type of day. Nobody seems to know what exactly happened to make her release it now, but I guarantee you it wasn’t out of the kindness of her heart. Hot stacks of cash were definitely discussed at some point. Something about all of this gives me a weird feeling in my gut. I get the same feeling when people sell potato chips resembling Lennon, Presley, or Jesus. It all feels fucking petty. But, fuck it, at least I get to listen to a sweet new album. I’ll just have to look past all the obvious weirdness we’re all supposed to kindly shut the fuck up about in order to listen to it with an open mind.
Is this album good? Shut your fucking mouth. Nobody is asking if John Coltrane’s classic quartet in 1963 is good. Is the sun hot? Is snow cold? Ya, this album is fucking good. It’s fucking Coltrane in his prime. And this album comes with tracks nobody has ever heard before. It’s not just a recycled dump of music he played all the time. It’s basically freshly squeezed 1963 John Coltrane album. And, even though there’s a bit of a bitter taste to it, it’s good to the last fucking drop.