One of the problems with this kind of endeavor (i.e. the essay series you are reading) is if you keep writing about how things are, you can forget to write about how things feel. Because it was one of the last things Coltrane recorded (5 months before his death), it's tempting to see Interstellar Space as some sort of swansong, especially due to the far-out nature of the album--like his soul was shooting up into the cosmos while his body was still earthbound, like he was already outgrowing this human shell & was soon to burst free.
Stripping down his band to the absolute minimum, Coltrane recorded a series of duets with drummer Rashied Ali. Apparently Ali received no prepping from Trane except a snatch of each tune's melody. But due to the sparseness of the combo, it doesn't feel as topsy-turvy as Coltrane's free jazz efforts like the earlier Ascension--but what it lacks in harmonic diversity, it makes up for in sheer energy. Ali's drumming is jaw-dropping in its flexibility: he never plays in recognizable time, but he always seems to be in time anyway. With such a formidable foil to play off of, Coltrane's pyrotechnic solos make the duo format into something compellingly stark.
All the tracks have similar bones, but there are subtle differences, seemingly inspired by the mythic characters of the planets they're named after. "Mars" is full of frantic drumming, whereas Ali slows down the pace on "Venus," despite Trane continuing to go full-bore. "Jupiter" is chaotic again as Trane reaches again & again for the extremes of his instrument's pitch range. "Saturn" is probably the most approachable tune on the album, as the melody is catchy in the style of A Love Supreme, but it's essentially a 10-minute skronky solo in between 2 iterations of the head. Towards the end Trane fires out volleys of ascending & descending notes like a plasma cannon exhausting the last of its reserves before dropping back into the lazy, bluesy head in one of the album's most memorable moments. More sci-fi sound effects come out of Coltrane's horn towards the end of "Jupiter Variation" (a bonus track, along with "Leo," on the Impulse! CD reissue): here a raygun blasting away, there a great pulse of electricity from the raging storms inside the planet's atmosphere.
I've pointed out a few highlights, but every track is filled with stuff like this: the sound of musicians unsatisfied with the constraints of their instruments, of music in general, of the laws of physics themselves. The terrifying chaos, incomprehensible vastness & roaring stillness of the spaces between the stars are brought to life: Ali's constant blasting blends into a drone, while Trane's horn squeals, pleads & shudders in the language of advanced aliens exasperated by our inability to understand them.
As Francis Davis points out in the liner notes, what I outlined in the 1st paragraph is a romanticized view. Nobody knows what Coltrane might have done next had he not left us at age 40, & it's rather presumptuous for us to think otherwise. There's no reason to think that Interstellar Space--or Expression for that matter--is the final statement of a farseeing genius butterfly guru as he tears away from the surly bonds of earthly chrysalis & prepares to explore the outer reaches of the 5th dimension. But I'll be damned if it doesn't feel that way.
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