Power to the People

Alongside being one of my favorite Joe Henderson albums, 1969's Power to the People is arguably Joe's most important release on Milestone, and surely one of his most important/impactful ever. The music is a mix of previously covered tunes and newly penned, creating a mixture that remains fresh even today; it features some of the most interactive and shocking rhythm section playing ever recorded, largely thanks to Herbie Hancock; and Henderson himself is on fiery form throughout.

While Henderson released other notable records on Milestone - Tetragon features some marvelous quartet sessions, including Henderson's very personal take on "Invitation", and The Elements is a notable collaboration with Alice Coltrane and Charlie Haden - none point to the future of the music as boldly as Power to the People. Rather than simply a batch of tunes for another contractual obligation, the pieces truly combine to form a unified whole; the order of the pieces form three "acts" of a narrative, starting with a slower piece (tension) and pushing toward a faster or more cathartic number (release). Perhaps this attention to detail coincides with the first title of Henderson's sociopolitical crusade of albums (which certainly can't be downplayed), continuing with titles like In Pursuit of Blackness and Black is the Color. Alternating Hancock between piano and Fender Rhodes here is an inspired choice, and Henderson knows exactly when to switch him between the two. Due credit must be given as well to producer Orrin Keepnews, perhaps best known for his work at Riverside, especially with Bill Evans; albums like Power to the People represent a full 180 from the average Riverside album of the 50's or 60's. It overall stands out as programmatic and thoughtful compared to Henderson's other Milestone releases, and the atmosphere the musicians create is bar none. 

This is surely due to the opener, "Black Narcissus" - one of Joe's most well-known tracks and the main reason this album is better known. It's most definitely the ballad of the set, which is quite a bold move for an album's opener. The rhythm section sets a beautiful atmosphere before the melody comes in, plaintive and whispered as a flute. The tune also shows off the band's dynamic range, with a soft A theme and a gradual crescendo with more turbulent chords in the B section. Henderson soloes with immaculate attention to melody, highly sensitive and never overplaying; Hancock absolutely sparkles on the electric piano. A perfect track with all the fat trimmed from the solos, as well as a dreamy atmosphere that wouldn't be the same without the early Fender Rhodes sound.

"Black Narcissus" finds its foil with the next track, "Afrocentric". While not as much of a standard, it has been covered quite a few times compared to other new tracks for the album. Trumpeter Mike Lawrence joins for this first of two quintet tracks, and despite being a lesser-known name he holds his own and melds with the band beautifully. The horns play a declamatory melody over a churning boogaloo, in a call-and-response with Ron Carter's electric bass and the left-hand piano. As with the Fender Rhodes on "Narcissus", the vibe of this track wouldn't be complete without Jack DeJohnette's churning and pliable groove; his interplay with Hancock and Carter throughout make him a worthy successor to Tony Williams in this regard. It's also worth noting that the song is a contrafact on the changes (with a slightly different form) of Joe's own "Jinrikisha", from his debut Page One six years earlier; only now, it reflects the changing times of the decade, with Hancock's harmonic goulash of Fender Rhodes and DeJohnette's transformative drumming. Henderson's solo is one of his very best, full of rhythmic games and harmonic daring, as well as a good screaming fit. Lawrence is bold and melodic, locking in especially well with Hancock, whose own solo bubbles over with excitement in textures and tension (even losing the form near the end). Damn near the best track on the album, and the definitive conclusion to the first act.

The next track, while at a ballad tempo and beat, could be described as anything but. Carter's "Opus One Point Five" is given a surreal, brooding, and almost chilling treatment with this band. Being the first song on the album with Hancock on piano, it creates the largest impact so far with such a drastically quieter change of texture. The band almost seems to be cloaked, taking the listener from a wide-open view of space to a hushed, dark library. This is true for the melody and form, which are masked especially through DeJohnette's textural drumming and Hancock's ambiguous, often dissonant voicings; alongside this and Carter's turbulent bass, Henderson's oddball phrasing is added to create something truly special. The band achieves a unique kind of tension, where even under the "soloist", everyone is soloing in their own right and playing fully off each other, knowing exactly when to swell dynamically and when to leave space.

Henderson immediately picks the energy back up with a reading of his standard "Isotope". It's immediately clear that this is a very different band from the tune's original recording on Inner Urge; Hancock, still on piano, takes the first solo, harmonically and melodically inventive, and often leaving out his left hand as he did on many classic Miles Davis quintet recordings. An interesting choice is made here: on his second chorus, Hancock drops out completely, leaving Carter to strum away with dotted quarter notes. It soon becomes apparent that piano and bass are trading, with Hancock variously disappearing and emerging at will, never leaving exactly six bars of space evenly. Henderson soon makes a similarly emerging entrance, playing rhythmic games with the rhythm section before solidifying his footing with some solid lines. In his last two choruses, he does the same thing as Hancock, leaving half a chorus (6 bars) for DeJohnette to fill before coming back to the head out.

The title track returns Hancock to the Fender Rhodes, with some almost classical left hand swirls before a giant upward gesture introduces the melody from Henderson and Lawrence. While similar in character to "Afrocentric", the entire A theme is over a single chord, Ebmaj7#11; this loose grounding in the Lydian mode (along with Henderson's melody including some notes outside the scale) leaves room for some of the best comping ever recorded. The bridge has a different feel with a dense array of chords and a melody weaving through them, before returning once more to the more spacious A section and letting the band loose. Henderson once again blows some intense heat, often even more aggressive than "Afrocentric", with some creative lines and intense highs. Lawrence is brassy and often quite melodic, expertly weaving between inside and outside. Throughout, Hancock's comping is wholly interactive and creates brilliant tension; during the highs of the horn solos, he's right there pushing everything forward. The shock of such outlandish playing makes his own solo rather underwhelming by comparison, even though it's still highly inventive and interesting. I do still like his solo on "Afrocentric" much better, though; it's quite the irony that the more harmonically open-ended groove tune produces an only somewhat tamer solo. All in all though, a mind-blowing and cathartic track. (Thus ends the second of the three acts.)

Another irony is that the standard "Lazy Afternoon", usually played as a ballad (as Joe did on Pete LaRoca's Basra), is given more of a light swing feel. Its sparse chord changes give Hancock, on piano for the last time, license to create in each section a modal wonderland, as so many tunes in the 1960's were; it's quite good taste from Henderson, justifying the track's place on the album. So does Henderson's swirling, cascading interpretation, with two choruses making up the entirety of the track. Rather than playing the melody straight for the first chorus and solo for the second, Henderson blurs the lines considerably between melody and solo, playing while always keeping the melody in mind; this is a good place to bask in just how wonderfully weird Joe's playing is, tied to the tradition, pushing towards the future, always trying to create a unique space for music.

This latter point is an apt descriptor for the final track, "Foresight and Afterthought", an entirely improvised trio suite with only Henderson, Carter and DeJohnette. (Perhaps some foreshadowing for frequent sax trios to come, including some with Carter.) The ending fade of "Lazy Afternoon" dissolves perfectly into the emergence of DeJohnette's ride cymbal; Henderson enters at top speed, perfectly melding with bass and drums as all three swell to a climax, then back down into the mist again. The second "section" is much more patient and spacious, with Henderson showing caution before releasing cascades of snarling overtones. So far, perhaps through the lack of a form or chordal instrument, the music has become more aggressive than any previous track so far. The final section, the longest of the three, returns to the faster tempo, and it sees the trio almost deconstruct the very idea of jazz up to 1969. There's a fast swing beat (more of a pulse, really), but this is really the only link to older jazz of yore; Henderson creates a space focused instead on interaction and musical pliability, as Carter and DeJohnette excel in here. In instrumentation and effect, the track owes more to the freer tradition of Ornette Coleman than anything else. The swing pulse gives way to open drum fireworks and rhythmic jabbing from Henderson, eventually leading to some more bellowing overtones signaling the fadeout of the track, and the album. Much like Immanuel Wilkins' 7th Hand, this seventh and final track on the album is made to allow the musicians complete freedom to sculpt together through reckless abandon: power to the people.