November 30, 2023 | ARTS AND ENTERTAINMENT | By Issa Nasatir
Around two months ago on Sept. 20, Los Angeles’ Hollywood Bowl was washed in a purple glow. People filed in to see the only time the critically acclaimed 2021 album, “Promises,” would ever be performed live. The piece was magically concocted by Floating Points (Sam Shepherd), an electronic artist and DJ, Pharoah Sanders, a renowned saxophone player who’s considered one of the all-time greats, and the London Symphony Orchestra.
Sanders tragically passed away late last year, so in dedication to the jazz legend, Shepherd decided to put together a live performance of the album as a tribute. But for the live rendition, there would be a few changes in the lineup. The London Symphony Orchestra was replaced by the Los Angeles Studio Orchestra, and Shabaka Hutchings, a sax and woodwinds player who was highly admired by Sanders would play in the musician’s stead.
To open the performance, the Sun Ra Arkestra glided onto the stage. Sun Ra, a mythical being in the world of jazz and a self-described celestial figure, was a vital mentor of Sanders. Sanders stayed at Ra’s place when he was homeless for a little while in New York. He also briefly joined the Sun Ra Arkestra, helping him grow roots in the city’s flourishing jazz scene.
The group of more than a dozen members was then led by saxophone and flute player Marshall Allen, who had joined the group in 1958. The troupe shuffled to their positions, and, head-to-toe in sparkling sequins, outshined the Hollywood stars.
The Arkestra’s music could only be described as chaos with intent. They played music sent from space, sounds that no one could have dreamed of composing, yet were following charts set in front of them.
The music portrayed a whirlwind of dissonance, often interspersed with repeating vocals like Ra’s famous phrase, “Space is the place.” These tunes were also mixed in with bluesy standards where they were able to display their prowess in classics as well as the avant-garde. On a typical Los Angeles night, with not a star in the polluted sky, it was a pleasure to have these sparkly legends take us on a cosmic journey in their place.
The air was charged with excitement as loads of synthesizers and miscellaneous electronic instruments took the Arkestra’s place, the likes of which many of us in the audience couldn’t imagine existed. Shepherd and six of his friends would helm these contraptions, the popular DJ’s Four Tet (Kieran Hebden) and Caribou (Dan Snaith) among them. The musicians took the stage as a short tribute video to Sanders was played, and then the group’s conductor, Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, called for liftoff.
Where the Sun Ra Arkestra demonstrated a mastery of chaos, Shepherd and the rest of the musicians onstage swept up their astral disarray and began building their own wonderland. The piece takes place in three acts, each split into three movements which flow flawlessly from one to the next.
First came Hutchings’ spotlight. While the synths and strings maintained the album’s repeated phrase, giving the piece its structure, Hutchings’ saxophone and wooden flute twirled and weaved around its bones – breathing life into the piece and an awestruck audience. His trills, abrupt stops and starts and use of space caused hearts to lodge up into throats. His melodies consumed the venue, fueled by sadness, anger, grief and, as his first ten-minute solo came to an end, a sense of tranquility.
Where the Sun Ra Arkestra had often played with a ferocious urgency, “Promises’” poignant peaks and valleys of volume, tempo and emotion left us craving the last monumental high just to get hit even harder by the next one. Waves of strings washed over us as we traversed into the second set of movements. At times they playfully tugged at our ankles, and then, suddenly, we were drowning, just to be violently thrown back on their shore as they prepare for the next one.
And where the Sun Ra Arkestra colorfully overwhelmed our senses, “Promises”reminded us of the vastness and beauty of space. In the final set of movements, Shepherd and his friends harnessed the legacies of the synthesizer pioneers before them and casted spells upon our ears. The spirals and swirls of fairytale sounds floated around us, re-instilling the child-like wonder that comes with watching a Studio Ghibli movie for the first time. Wizardry was being performed right in front of us, and we were frozen in our seats.
As the end of the piece approached, synths were suddenly brought to silence, and the phrase that repeated throughout the entire piece drifted away. These elements gave way to an organ, and the Hollywood Bowl became a church for the night. We were brought to our knees as if by divine intervention, and the wooden bleachers had suddenly become pews.
Suddenly, the organ dropped away too, leaving the venue utterly silent. This space, this silence, inferred a loss that something was missing. As a last tribute to Sanders and “Promises,” it felt like we were finally putting both to rest. As the silence became long enough to draw out a nervous “Whoop!” from an audience member, one last wave of hauntingly beautiful strings loomed over us and slithered away. Suddenly, we were thrown back into the real world and realized our journey had come to an end. All of us had finally come back to our bodies, and we felt as though we had just woken up from a fantastic, ethereal dream.