Scrolling through YouTube’s recommended page, I have uncovered thousands of countless recordings, all characterized by some staticy, monochrome appearance. I’ve stumbled upon performances where Ben Webster plays “A Night in Tunisia”, or where Jaco Pastorius and NHOP sit down to call Donna Lee at 400 beats per minutes- though, none of them have moved me quite as much as Rahsaan Roland Kirk’s “The Inflated Tear” (Live in Prague, 1967).
Rahsaan Roland Kirk, known as just Roland Kirk for the majority of his multi-instrumentalist career, was a blind man since the age of 2. Though, his lasting impact on jazz and his sheer creativity was never hindered by that fact- Kirk was mainly known for his virtuosity in playing multiple horns at once. He’d rearrange and write numerous compositions calling for a soprano and straight alto played simultaneously, or a tenor and alto played at the same time. “The Inflated Tear” in particular features a soprano, a straight alto, and a tenor, all played at once- the effect is a beautiful but chaotic type of harmony, as one instrument always remained untouched for a portion and stayed on a single tone.
Kirk is often underlooked in jazz, being a predominantly unknown name to many jazz musicians despite his powerful impact and story. Many of his gigs were played as an opener to some other musician, and for the majority of his career he wasn’t taken very seriously. Saxophonist Hank Crawford, when asked about Kirk, stated: “He would be like this 14-year-old blind kid playing two horns at once. They would bring him out and he would tear the joint up. Now they had him doing all kinds of goofy stuff but he was playing the two horns and he was playing the shit out of them. He was an original from the beginning.”
Roland’s creativity is clearly displayed on “The Inflated Tear”. The tune starts off with Kirk playing a flexatone, an odd percussion instrument that produces an almost comical, waverly noise. Roland then puts the mouthpieces of three horns into his mouth, playing them in simultaneity, though only being able to control two of the three at once. In result, the sound is horrific and chaotic, though not “dissonant”. It still sounds harmonious, purposeful, and put together- the sheer difficulty of maintaining Roland’s straight tone throughout, however, is well recognized by reed players and instrumentalists worldwide.
Kirk then phases out of the “chaotic” section to be accompanied by the rhythm section in a beautiful, smooth passage, Roland playing a straight alto this time. The chaoticism dissipates and is forgotten when Roland arpeggiates the opening chord, and the beauty is no longer an impression by the listener. It’s pure.
Roland’s “The Inflated Tear” is alike no other of its kind. Decades upon decades of African-American music and it’s beauty almost conjoined into one. Conjoined into one function that was Kirk, creating the sound of a Duke Ellington reed section as one man, though encapsulating his own eccentricity and unique style, parallel to his life.
An article I read on this once aptly put Roland's “The Inflated Tear”, and more widely, Kirk’s music as a whole, into one phrase.
“It was like listening to the inside of someone’s heart.”
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