Droning, sustained chords float above Muhammad's free percussion—ambient house music arriving nearly two decades early.
Idris Muhammad's second album for Prestige splits itself in half, and the divide tells you everything about where his head was in 1971. Side one is warm, soulful, pretty—the kind of mid-tempo grooves that work in a lounge or a late-night radio slot. Kenny Barron on electric piano drives much of this material, keeping things melodic and accessible. It's smooth enough that you could mistake it for a soul record with jazz musicians sitting in.
Side two is something else entirely. "The Peace and Rhythm Suite" occupies the whole side: two long, spacy pieces where Clarence Thomas and the reed section drift in sustained, almost motionless chords while Muhammad's percussion ebbs and flows underneath with no obvious pulse. There's no swing here, no steady timekeeper. The drums sound almost ambient, more texture than timekeeping. For early-'70s jazz, this was strange—the kind of thing that wouldn't have a real parallel until electronic producers like Brian Eno started thinking the same way almost a decade later. AllMusic heard it right: this album predates ambient house by nearly twenty years and sounds entirely at home in that world, even now.
It's not a masterpiece, but it's fearless. The first half proves Muhammad could hang with standard soul-jazz prettiness; the second half proves he was thinking about something much weirder. That second side is why this record matters.