Some years ago (June 1992) "The Wire" magazine ran a feature entitled "Unsung Heroes". Among the subjects covered was John Tchicai, a saxophonist whose reputation appears to have been set by the title of an article some 28 years earlier in Down Beat. Called "John Tchicai a Calm Member of the Avant Garde", it suggested, not entirely unfairly, that his was a quiet voice among much of the frantic activity that occured during the 1960’s. However, a music can be urgent without being frantic as I think Tchicai's subsequent career has proved. Born in Copenhagen in 1936 of a Danish mother and Congolese father, Tchicai, encouraged by Archie Shepp and Bill Dixon, moved to NewYork in 1963 where he joined the New York Contemporary Five. He made his first recordings with this band whilst on a Europe an tour later that year. These tracks are among some of my personal favorites from those times. They are full of the enthusiasm of young men beginning to open new avenues of exploration. The compositions are particularly strong and included pieces by Ornette Coleman and Bill Dixon as well as those of Don Cherry, Archie Shepp and Tchicai himself. Tchicai's playing was already distinctive and quite unmistakable from that of any other alto player at the time.

But it was a recording from the following year that really gave some idea of his true worth. This was the epochal New York Art Quartet recording for ESP, a recording that had a particularly profound effect on me. As a novice saxophonist at the time I found his oblique yet somehow precise phrasing more appealing than the higher profile, high energy style of Albert Ayler or Pharaoh Sanders. More recently a friend suggested that he didn't know any other saxophonist on whom Tchicai had been a major influence (of course Evan Parker is an exception). The accuracy of my friend's observation may be questionable but it certainly led me to reconsider the man's music in greater depth. His sound has most often been compared to that of Lee Konitz and indeed Tchicai himself admits to being greatly influenc ed by him, even calling him "the greatest avant-garde saxophonist". I think I know what he meant by that statement. Konitz had always set himself apart from other saxophonists of his time by making a conscious decision not to sound like Charlie Parker. And Ornette Coleman, the other major innovative alto-saxophonist who influenced Tchicai also avoided playing like Parker or anybody else.

The other major alto voice of this time, Eric Dolphy, grew out of the Be-Bop tradition although his influence is s omewhat less discernable. If it's there at all I believe it is in the way that certain phrases and clusters of notes are developed, in the same way that Coltrane exerted this influence on Tchicai, particularly evident on "Ascension". By the early 60's it had become impossible to play like Bird because the language of Be-Bop had driven itself into a corner, a corner which some musicians are unfortunately still unable to negotiate a way out of. By looking at some of John Tchicai's still available recordi ngs, it should be possible to see how he dealt with this particular problem [Interested listeners would be advised to seek out deleted recordings which further emphasise this view]. Like some of the other originators of the so called jazz avant-garde of the 60's, such as Bill Dixon, Milford Graves and Marion Brown, Tchicai has been more interested in researching and playing the music than becoming a marketable commodity. The recording quality of the aforementioned New York Contemporary Five tracks does not do him any favours but some of his methods of solo construction are already being established; the stating and re-stating of a particular phrase with subtle changes to the rhythmic inflection; long tones played across the pulse interspersed with short flurries of notes; thematic development that explodes into sudden chromatic runs and in conjunction with any of these devices is the variable pitch of each note, the sliding on and off of the centre of each pitch ---- the embodiment of Ornette's axiom of playing in tune, out of tune.

This approach reached its apotheosis on the New York Art Quartet recording of 1964. The dual impulse supplied by Roswell Rudd (the trombone itself is perfect for non-tempered intonation) and the percussion of Milford Graves appeared to give Tchicai the freedom he required. Graves deserves special mention here. His speed around the drum kit is phenomenal, sometimes almost unbelievable when coupled with it's precision. This speed creates a web of percussion which has within it a myriad of pulses. Graves' initial experience was as a hand drummer, evinced by his multi-faceted approach to the kit. His sound was tailor made for this group wh o probably played the most "structurally free" music of the time but seem never to have been given sufficient credit for their innovative approach to collective improvisation. Tchicai's contribution to two other important recordings from the mid 60's should not go unmentioned.

With his colleague Roswell Rudd he played on Archie Shepp’s "Four For Trane", playing a beautifully crafted solo on "Cousin Mary", the sound of which prompted the title for this essay. On "Rufus", accompanied just by Shepp, Reggie Workman bass and Charles Moffet drums, he is given more space and it is interesting to hear him accompanied by the more metrically precise (though not rigid) Workman and the less rhythmically fractured Moffet. One has only to compare Tchicai's solo here with that on "Rosmosis" from the NYAQ album to hear his phrasing and rhythmic attack being applied to outwardly similar, yet intrinsically different musical problems. Tchicai's solos on each of two versions of John Coltrane's "Ascension" follow his motivic approach to solo development. Much as Sonny Rollins would develop a solo thematically, Tchicai opens with a phrase which he subjects to pitch, volume and durationa l adjustment. Interspersed with these are chromatic flurries moving from high to low register, all the time playing across the percussive (rhythmic) ground being set up by the two basses and drums.

The differences between Rollins' approach and Tchicai's are not as marked as may initially be suspected. The main one is that where Rollins will in general tend to approach and develop a whole thematic idea (eg "Blue Seven"), Tchicai worries at a much smaller melodic "cell", squeezing every ounce of rhythmic and tonal variation from it. It is for this reason that I would term his method "motivic" rather than thematic. There were further trips to Europe in the late 60's and he could be found in a variety of contexts at this time and throughout the 1970 's when he was also studying and researching Eastern music and culture. By the time "Real Tchicai" was recorded in 1977, his "eclectic" stance was well established, I use the term in the best sense of the word. His openness to all forms of music from Scandinavian folk songs to African music, always with the improvisational imperative uppermost in his mind, has led to a discography which though limited in size is outstanding in its variety. "Real Tchicai" has him in a trio with Pierre Dorge on guitar and Niels-Henning Orsted Pederson on bass. By this time Tchicai's sound has mellowed somewhat yet it fits his material to a "T". This, coupled with a recessed position in the mix, gives "Monks Mood" an eerie perspective. On other tracks ranging from the folk song like "Silent Danish Girl" to "Nothing Doing In Krakow", he plays in a free yet almost restrained manner as though he is re-assessing everything that had preceded this time. This is not slight music however. Melodically and rhythmically inventive, it is an album that repays repeated listening. His free jazz heritage whilst sometimes seemingly submerged beneath other rhythmic and harmonic layers was never far from the surface however.

He had also taken up tenor and soprano saxophones and bass clarinet, with tenor featuring most frequently. "Timo's Message" [1984] is a beautiful album. Apart from three solo tracks on which he plays alto and which demonstrate with overwhelming clarity Tchicai's thoughtful and deliberate constructivism, he plays tenor saxophone accompanied by two basses and percussion. There is a version of Albert Ayler's "Mothers" that rivals the composer's in its level of intensity and reminds us of Ayler's influence on Tchicai in the 1960's, a fact not surprising when we consider the "lightness" of Ayler's tone on an album such as "Spiritual Unity". "Stella By Starlight" develops a splintered, prismatic quality under Tchicai's hands. His original compositions such as "The struggle with the 7th" and "Excercise 15 " mine the same ground as his improvising (a trend that can be traced back to his NYC 5 days with "Wo-Wo" and "Mick") with their rhythmic complexities and melodic richness. On Johnny Dyani's "Angolian Cry", Tchicai, on tenor sax and bass clarinet, shares the front line with Harry Beckett's trumpet and flugelhorn. Tchicai had teamed up with Dyani in 1978 on "Witchdoctors Son" and his previously mentioned sense of pitch fits perfectly with the leaders "African" bass. The tenor solo on the title track is masterful in its dynamic and total control, whilst his bass clarinet interlude with arco bass on "Year of the Child" is beautiful in its sensitivity. On "Put up the Fight", recorded in 1987, the association with Dyani is continued, albeit in the form of a tribute to the bassist who had recently passed on [the final track "Yoke them Johnny" is dedicated to him].

Yet another example of Tchicai's catholic musical interests, the compositions and solos reflect African and Carribbean rhythmns; the looseness of pulse made possible by the developments of free jazz; and an interest in song forms that has probably always been close to his heart. A version of Carlos Jobim's samba, "Adieu Tristesse" has Tchicai playing some of the most melodic soprano you will hear anywhere. "Grandpa's Spells" with Misha Mengelberg [an earlier accomplice from ICP days] is full of variety in its choice of materials. This includes exquisite humourous reconstructions of two Jelly Roll Morton tunes, "Cannonball Blues" and the title tune plus a Swedish childrens song, and a version of Art Pepper's "Mambo Koyama" which allows Tchicai to indulge his fondness for Latin rhythmns whilst Mengelberg does his best to subvert the proceedings with some delicious re-harmonisations and interjections. The combination of these compositions with those of Tchicai, Mengelberg and bassist Peter Danstrup give this album a remarkable freshness each time it's listened to. As one of 1992's JazzPar performances it did ample justice to the occassion and prize which ironically was presented that year to Lee Konitz.
With tracks featuring combinations of tenor sax or bass clarinet plus piano, bass, drums and occasional electronic sequencing, this could be seen as most representative of John Tchicai's musical universe. He seems to float in and out of focus yet playing with commanding authority as he creates moments of rare melodic beauty. Over the y ears John Tchicai and his music have continued to evolve and he has never been afraid to utilise new concepts and to adapt them to his own style. From solo to big band, incorporating conventional line ups, a saxophone sextet (Six Winds) and absorbing folk, rock, jazz and contempary compositional ideas, it seems absurd to have to call him underrated, yet he certainly is.