Reaching solo-piano explorations in blues, jazz and classical music by the Free Jazz pioneer, in 1970; inspired by the revolutionary spirit of the times, and — opening with a dedication to Don Cherry — the New Thing.

A second set of piano improvisations, one year after the first, now more extended, percussive, insistent, and tumultuous; explicitly enraged by the recent murder of George Jackson by a San Quentin guard, and the massacre at Attica Prison.

‘There are relatively few places where members of the two great Arkestras — Ra’s and Tapscott’s — cross paths… As you might expect from such a line-up, Voyage From Jericho does not have a wasted note. Every light is most definitely on, the band are running hot, and the spirits are live in the set. Tyler’s compositions are ruggedly carved, heraldic and open; he leads on baritone, sculpting the songs, growling out blue-flamed multi-phonics, the flow in full spate. Boykins steps lightly with his familiar elasticity and glowing presence; Blythe and Cross duck and weave, and Reid clatters and baffles, following and leading, echoing and supporting, always right there in his sui genesis super-precision time-beyond-time. Top-tier fire music.’ (Francis Gooding, The Wire)

With Alice Coltrane, Wayne Shorter, Gary Bartz, Ron Carter, Elvin Jones.

His 1963 recording with John Gilmore, Thad Jones, Frank Strozier, Jimmy Garrison, Elvin Jones, and co. Firing Trane-style modal jazz, a waltz, Night In Tunisia, brilliant soloing all round — it’s a classic.
‘Verve By Request.’

Positioning him between Milford Graves and Morton Feldman, the New York Times reckons this is ‘Mr. Sorey’s best album… bereft of almost anything resembling a steady cadence. Instead, what’s inside the pulse — resonance, fluid, potential — comes to the fore. It’s not rare for recordings of improvised music to give a sense of the physical space between instrumentalists, but with Mr. Sorey’s trio, that air seems to be in a state of charged collapse, packed with magnetic density.’

Thrilling, angular hard bop, impatiently itching itself open to the new thing.
Dolphy plays b-flat clarinet and alto; Ron Carter plays cello. Booker Ervin is rawly eloquent as per. The seven compositions are all by Waldron, who centres proceedings with inimitable brilliance.
Feelingly recorded by Van Gelder in the summer of 1961, in the same few weeks as Ron Carter’s Where.
In this iteration — all-analogue remastering from the master-tapes, tip-on sleeve, first-class pressing — it’s a must.