A mad, glorious romp that explores dark tonalities while remaining witty, fresh, and consistently exciting.
Too Much Sugar for a Dime captures Henry Threadgill in full command of an ensemble built for controlled chaos. The session brought together a deliberately fractured band—two drummers in Gene Lake and Larry Bright, two tubas in Edwin Rodriguez and Marcus Rojas, two violins in Jason Kao Hwang and Leroy Jenkins, two guitarists in Masujaa and Brandon Ross—layered with Simon Shaheen's oud, Mark Taylor's French horn, and percussion from Johnny Rudas and Miguel Urvina. That doubling was not accident. Threadgill wanted texture and friction; pairs of instruments create different weight and color than single voices, and they can't resolve into unison the way a traditional frontline does. The result plays like a cabinet of curiosities, each track finding new angles through this sprawling cast.
What emerges is witty without being clever-clever, dark without being heavy. Threadgill's alto cuts through the timbral clutter with clarity and purpose, and the arrangements give each player room to breathe while maintaining an almost perverse density. This is not fusion, not world music, not chamber jazz in any conventional sense. It's Threadgill doing what he'd built his entire practice around: finding ways to make instruments speak to each other that standard language doesn't predict.
By 1993 Threadgill was well into his middle period, past the early shock value, confident enough to trust that strangeness and humor could coexist without explanation. Too Much Sugar for a Dime is not his most accessible record, but it stands among his strongest—playful and uncompromising in equal proportion.