Where Coltrane's Force Meets New Spirits
Ware picks up where John Coltrane left off, taking his force majeure to the next level.
Cooper-Moore's piano anchors this debut, and his presence is what makes Birth of a Being cohere. Working then under the name Gene Ashton, Cooper-Moore doesn't accompany Ware so much as push back against him—sparse, architectural, refusing to fill space. It's a different kind of trio language than what was common in 1977, less about swing-era comping and more about finding silence as an active choice. Marc Edwards' drumming, equally restrained, lets the saxophone dominate without ever disappearing. Ware himself sounds like someone who has absorbed Coltrane's spiritual intensity and force but is asking different questions. He's not quoting or imitating; he's taking that hunger and applying it to his own sound, which is sharper, more angular, less bound by the blues changes that anchored so much free jazz.
This is Ware at the beginning, still finding his voice in collective settings rather than the solo-dominated records he'd make later. The Swiss label Hat Hut's decision to document this specific moment—this particular trio, this moment in time—gave the record a coherent identity it might not have had elsewhere. It's intense music for sure, not exactly revolutionary, but nourished by original energies. Nothing here wastes time on virtuosity for its own sake. Every note serves the conversation between the three players.
For listeners coming to Ware's later work, this is instructive: it shows how much was already there in 1977, before the solos got longer and the statements more forceful. For those interested in how free jazz evolved in the late seventies, it's essential. Cooper-Moore's restraint and architectural thinking give the album its particular character—a quality that persists even now.
