Graves and Pullen make some of the deepest music anywhere, wanting nothing from tradition or approval.
The first thing you hear is silence — or rather, the space between sounds. Milford Graves' drums don't keep time; they breathe, flutter, crack like branches. Don Pullen' piano answers without melody, his hands striking clusters and single notes that seem to arrive from nowhere. There's no walking bass, no harmonic safety net. Just two musicians listening so hard to each other that the conversation becomes the only rule that matters.
This is free jazz at its most uncompromising. Recorded live at Yale in April 1966, the performance catches both players at a point where they'd moved past shock value into genuine exploration. Graves brings a percussionist's logic to rhythm — treating the drums as an instrument of texture rather than pulse — while Pullen responds with complete freedom, his playing neither decorative nor abstract in service of abstraction, but genuinely interactive. The five pieces unfold without signposts. Intensity rises and falls. Sometimes there's a moment that feels almost tonal; then Graves will shatter it with a sudden flourish or silence, and Pullen follows into new territory.
Amiri Baraka, reviewing the original SRP release in DownBeat, heard it plainly: "The music is beautiful on this album." It was a rare moment of critical clarity in 1967. The album eventually circulated as both In Concert at Yale University and its companion Nommo, becoming a quiet landmark among musicians who understood that free jazz at its best isn't rebellion for its own sake — it's two people learning what they're capable of together, in real time, with no net.