Early in 1971 John McLaughlin joined the Miles Davis band when they played at Lennie’s on the Turnpike in Peabody, Massachusetts. The formidable band included Gary Bartz, Michael Henderson, Jack DeJohnette and Keith Jarrett. The guitarist remembers that occasion well, for it changed the trajectory of his career: “I hadn’t had it together that night. Miles and I, only the two of us together, were in the band room. He said, ‘You didn’t have your shit together tonight.’ I said, ‘I know, Miles.’ I felt terrible. And out of the blue he says, ‘John, its time you form your own band.’ That was a shock. It was a bolt of lightning from the heavens. He was the most honest man I ever met. It was the last thing on my mind, but he said it. I revered him. I had to do it to justify his faith in me.”
Miles knew what he was saying. McLaughlin was ready to explore new musical avenues after recently departing from the pioneering jazz rock group The Tony Williams Lifetime. Prior to following Miles Davis’ orders, he recorded a solo album dedicated to his love of acoustic guitar and to his spiritual leader, Indian guru Sri Chinmoy. My Goal’s Beyond (notice the apostrophe) showcased two sides of his acoustic guitar playing, in ensemble and solo settings. Years later, after releasing more albums exclusively with acoustic guitar, McLaughlin wrote in the CD reissue of the album: “My Goal’s Beyond was, and indeed still is, a very important album for me. It stems from the love of the acoustic guitar and was my first attempt to show its natural beauty.”
The guitar on the cover photograph of the album, taken in his apartment, is an Ovation acoustic, which John McLaughlin played exclusively on the album He talked about that guitar: “That was the best acoustic I could find. I never liked a Martin sound. It’s great, but it was a folk guitar. And I liked the Hummingbird, but what I liked about the Ovation was its projection. Plus, you ever throw an Ovation on the ground? It bounces back up. It’s really hard to break.”
The first side of the LP features an ensemble of musicians, with two lengthy pieces of music titled Peace 1 and 2. They provide a glimpse into the style of music McLaughlin was about to immerse in soon after, bringing together his spiritual quest and influence of Indian music. Charlie Haden is on board, along with Dave Liebman, Airto Moreira, Badal Roy and future Mahavishnu Orchestra members Billy Cobham and Jerry Goodman. Mahalakshmi (Eve McLaughlin), John McLaughlin then-wife, plays tambura, an Indian drone instrument. McLaughlin said about these tracks: “I’m an old hippie. That’s why I wrote music like Peace One and Peace Two, hoping that something inside the music brings something.”
Early in 1971, following Miles’ advise, John McLaughlin got himself busy with forming his new band. He said of his mindset at the time: “I’d been getting louder and louder with Tony Williams. I was into loud music, I wanted to play loud. I was conscious that what I wanted to do, the way I wanted to play, nobody was doing. It took the years I spent with Tony and Miles to give me the possibility of giving birth to the form that I wanted to use.” The first line of order was finding the right musicians for his own band. The new music required artists who had the chops of jazz musicians, but with the power and intensity of high voltage rock performers. The band was to be named The Mahavishnu Orchestra. Mahavishnu was the name bestowed upon McLaughlin by Sri Chinmoi, as McLaughlin explains: “Mahavishnu is from Sanskrit. Maha means ‘great.’ Mahatma Gandhi. Mahat mixed with atma means ‘great soul.’ Mahavishnu is ‘great vishnu.’ Vishnu is part of the Hindu pantheon. You’ve got the creator of the universe, the sustainer of the universe, and then you have the Shiva, who transforms the universe because we’re all evolving and growing and moving. Nothing is standing still. Vishnu is the sustainer.”
The first musician McLaughlin recruited was drummer Billy Cobham, whom he met a year earlier in a Miles Davis session that yielded music for the album Jack Johnson. Cobham remembers: “Miles said to us, ‘Don’t play in between takes,’ so of course John played in between takes. And every time he did it, we kept getting this groove, and the next thing you know, it was more and more intense. Finally, Miles just couldn’t stand it anymore and the next thing you know, we were recording this thing.”
By the time Billy Cobham joined John McLaughlin’s band, he appeared on albums by Horace Silver, George Benson, Kenny Burrell and Larry Coryell, as well as with the early jazz rock outfit Dreams, along with John Abercrombie, Randy Brecker, Michael Brecker and others. He had experience with a varying array of musical styles and his early aspiration was to be a studio musician:” Playing with Aretha Franklin, Roberta Flack, the Stax soul thing was normal to me as playing with Tito Puente or Miles Davis. The point was to be versatile. The idea that you could back up Frank Sinatra and three hours later you’d be playing with James Brown before doing on to do a Latin session in the evening – that for me was the ultimate.”
But none of that experience prepared Cobham for the music McLaughlin introduced him to. He had a good excuse, though, because that type of music had not been played before. Cobham talked about how demanding it was for him at the early stages of the band: “When we started, I still didn’t really understand what John McLaughlin was trying to do. The music was taxing on me because I didn’t know how to approach it. I used to put all my energies into it and I’d come away huffing and puffing and really, it would frighten me. I’d come off the stage and my heart would be beating so fast because of the energy. I didn’t think that I could physically play at that level of intensity and still keep myself together. Then, all of a sudden, I began to learn how to pace myself. It was either that or die.’
After recruiting Billy Cobham, McLaughlin moved on to add additional musicians, and the first was another string instrument player: “With Billy as my foundation – and you must have a great drummer if the band is to make it – I went out and scouted for other players who would be right for what I had in mind. The violin was part of the sound I wanted. First, I thought of getting Jean Luc Ponty, but immigration problems made me give up that idea. I ended up listening to all the albums I could find featuring violin players.” But McLaughlin was not looking for just any violin player, he had something more specific in mind: “I wanted violin in it, because my mother was a violinist. I hadn’t heard any jazz bands with a violin in them. I didn’t want a specifically jazz violinist; I wanted someone who had more of the blues thing and the R&B thing.”
The quest for a violin player ended when McLaughlin heard an album by The Flock, a seven-piece ensemble that combined rock and jazz arrangements, a popular thing to do at the time with bands like Chicago and Blood, Sweat & Tears. But The Flock were unique, for they had Jerry Goodman, a classically trained violinist with an electric pick-up attached to his violin. McLaughlin continues: “When I heard Jerry Goodman with The Flock, I knew the search was over. After a little detective work I found out he was living on a farm in Wisconsin. I contacted him about doing my album My Goal’s Beyond, and then talked to him about a permanent thing.”
Goodman was somewhat reluctant to join a new band, enjoying his rural life in America’s Dairyland. But McLaughlin was convincing, and once Goodman came to New York to meet him, things turned around: “When John and I got into a room and started playing together, Zap! Energy was there – all around! All of a sudden I could see it, hear it, feel it and there were no doubts about anything after that.”
During his search for musicians, John McLaughlin got a surprise call from bass player Miroslav Vitous: “He said, ‘John, I’m putting a band together with Wayne and Joe, we want you to join.’ I said, ‘Oh, man. I would love to be in that band, but I’m under orders from Miles.’” That band Vitous was putting together was, of course, Weather Report. Its early beginnings are told in the previous article in this series:
But when God closes a door, Vitous opens a window. The bassist was happy to help a fellow countryman, and quickly followed with a recommendation: “Well, if you want a piano player call Jan Hammer. He’s out in California playing with Sarah Vaughn.” MacLaughlin thought, “If he’s playing with Sara Vaughn, he’s no slouch because Sarah was something else.”
Jan Hammer was incredibly impressed with the Mahavishnu Orchestra musicians and the music they were rehearsing: “We thought alike melodically, harmonically. John would bring a sketch in and he knew the band would just grab it and make an incredible piece of work out of it – just organically.” He talked about the early days of the band, when they were rehearsing in a loft on Crosby Street in New York City: “You could see during the rehearsal, a month or so into Crosby Street, the arrangements started taking a totally different turn from what John’s music had sounded like up to that point. Billy was subdividing and breaking down the beat in a way that was totally unheard of before. I was able to contribute all sorts of harmonic sense that I brought with me.”
And what about a bass player? McLaughlin was eying Tony Levin, who at the time was playing with Gary Burton. Levin, a man with a sense of humor, tells the story of a phone call he received while staying with his in-laws: “I came home from a gig and my mother in-law told me I’ve had a call from a guy with a funny accent. I don’t think she’s ever heard a British accent. It was about joining a band, she said, called ‘Murray Vishnu and his Orchestra.’ Sounded like a strange wedding gig to me.” Still curious, Levin called back but decided to turn the opportunity down. Why? “I had high hopes for a band I’ve just started, called ‘Mike and the Rhythm Boys’. Never heard of it? Yeah, that’s life!” Levin had gone on to become one of the most celebrated bass players in modern music, but his decision to decline the offer brought a different bass player from obscurity.
Rick Laird was one of John McLaughlin’s earliest musical collaborators, back when they were both becoming professional musicians in Britain: “In 1963 I met John McLaughlin who was playing with Brian Auger’s group. Trinity. This was pre-Julie Driscoll’s days. We played straight ahead —pop tunes and the standard tunes of the time.” In the late 1960s Laird became house bassist at Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club, accompanying many visiting American jazz greats like Wes Montgomery and Sonny Stitt. He later found himself touring with Buddy Rich, but the experience left him unsatisfied. He returned back to England, contemplating giving up on a musical career in favor of a steady job. Then he got a phone call from John McLaughlin.
Rick Laird faced a number of challenges when he started playing with the Mahavishnu Orchestra. The first was the astronomic volume level: “I used to wear earplugs a lot. Billy was right behind me, and he was phenomenally loud. Jerry’s high-pitched violin was very loud.” Later at live shows it was even worse, playing on a stage loaded with sound amplification equipment: “When you are standing in front of a wall of bass amps that are, like, ten feet tall, you can’t really hear what you are playing. It’s like standing in front of a 747.”
In addition, Laird had to deal with the complexity of the music and the odd-time meters sprinkled all over the compositions that McLaughlin brought to the band. Laird commented: “Technically speaking, it took a long time to get into time signatures. I always felt stiff. Someone would say let’s play something in 5/4 or 7, which always gave me a very traumatic, uptight sort of conscious experience.” At the start he used to count the beat as they were playing the music, but gradually the odd meters became second nature.
Laird was not the only one who struggled with the complexity of the music. Guitarist John Abercrombie remembers a day during the very early days of the Mahavishnu Orchestra, when the band rehearsed in July of 1971. At a typical New York City jam session at somebody’s loft, Abercrombie saw Jan Hammer with a folder of sheet music. The keyboardist asked Abercrombie to help him figure out the written music from the rehearsal. Abercrombie looked at it a moment and replied: “No. I don’t even know what it means. I can’t read this.”
A few weeks later, on July 21, 1971, the Mahavishnu Orchestra played their first gig ever at the Gaslight at the Au Go Go. They opened for blues legend John Lee Hooker. The club, with a capacity of 300 people, was not ready for the bombardment of sound unleashed by the band. Jan Hammer remembers: “After the first tune, people didn’t clap. There was a stunned silence for quite a while. It was the most unusual reaction I’ve ever heard. They were shocked!” Guitarist Steve Khan, who was in the audience, recalls: “I left knowing that I had witnessed something which was going to change how we were all to approach music-making for the rest of the decade.” The band remained for a three-week residency at the club.
In August 1971, during the stint at the Gaslight, the Mahavishnu Orchestra recorded their debut album The Inner Mounting Flame. The record is now considered a cornerstone in the emergence of jazz rock in the early 1970s. The Melody Maker said it right when commenting in its review of the album, “the effects of this remarkable album will be far reaching.” The whole album is fantastic start to finish, with two tracks that stand out for me as they embody the greatness of the Mahavishnu Orchestra.
The album opens with Meeting of the Spirits. McLaughlin introduces us to one of the band’s staple track openers: Arpeggios played on a guitar. Shortly after the album was released, he started playing a double-neck guitar, using the twelve-string guitar for the arpeggios and the six-string for solos. That pattern, once all instruments join in, creates a hypnotic effect that keeps you at the edge of your sit and even farther when the melody is introduced and the musicians start soloing over it. McLaughlin said of the spiritual background to that tune: “This group of people coming together to form a band is a meeting of the spirits. Every time music is made, there is a meeting of the spirits.”
Another classic in the Mahavishnu Orchestra’s repertoire is The Dance of Maya. This time the pace is slower, but the complexity of juxtaposed rhythms and melody lines mixed with odd time meters is all there. Rick Laird said of the track: “The Danse of Maya was a written bass part because it was a harmonic structure that needed those bass parts. Once we got into the improvisation, we were all free to do whatever we wanted. Eventually we all got pretty comfortable with odd time signatures and I didn’t have to count anymore. When I first started, I had to go 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and 5 and 6 and 1.”
The roots of the tune trace back to that Miles Davis recording session for Jack Johnson, where John McLaughlin met Billy Cobham. McLaughlin: “Normally, Miles would come with some pieces of paper, some chords. This session – he didn’t come with anything. So, he’s in the control room. We were waiting, talking to Teo Macero, the producer. There was Herbie Hancock on the organ, Michael Henderson on bass, Steve Grossman, the sax-player, Billy on drums and I’ve never met Billy before! After 15 minutes I’m very bored in the studio. I’ve been thinking about the chord progression that eventually became Dance of Maya.”
The Mahavishnu Orchestra toured extensively after the release of the album, opening for popular acts such as Steve Miller Band, Blue Oyster Cult, The Byrds, Yes and the Kinks. The audience had their mouth agape at the sheer amount of volume, talent and virtuosity on stage. The surprise was made more complete after a few moments of silence that John McLaughlin asked the audience to observe. Rick Laird remembers: “We’ve experienced audiences that were like a bunch of wild animals and after five minutes, not even a sound! They wait the whole time. That’s really encouraging to see people do this, giving our music respect and a lot of listening.”
The band closed the year with a show at Carnegie Hall on December 29, 1971. They opened for the west coast band It’s A Beautiful Day, famous for their hit White Bird. Drummer Peter Erskine, who was at the show, remembers: “We were not there to see It’s A Beautiful Day, but most people in the audience were. Even though we were somewhat prepared for the concert in terms of what to possibly expect from the Mahavishnu Orchestra, it was still a mind-blowing experience for us and for everyone else who was there.” One writer echoed the sentiment with this piece of writing: “The first notes of the music made the audience literally jump. The violin, guitar and piano all playing like lightning in the same high range; Billy Cobham… playing so fast that you can’t see his arms; Mahavishnu and Goodman skirling out brilliant, driving music that translated into invocations of the spirit, prayers, chants; music that seems to go as far as music can go from the fingers of mortal musicians.”
In 1972 The Inner Mounting Flame was selected as Downbeat magazine’s No. 1 album in both their Jazz and Pop album of the year categories. I do not know how that magazine classifies albums as pop music, but I’d be curious to see the reaction of a 12-year-old teen in 1971, expecting to hear a song by The Osmonds or The Carpenters coming up next on the radio, and instead being on the receiving end of a tune like Meeting of the Spirits.
The Mahavishnu Orchestra was truly a unique experiment in modern music. The combination of the members’ musicianship, the new musical territories they were exploring and John McLaughlin’s spirituality, made for a completely new way to approach music. Rick Laird said of that experience: “Getting out on a journey like this was not a gig. I cannot treat this as a gig as I have for 10 or 12 years. This is an experience. It’s like a mission.” And to close, this is how John McLaughlin described the connection between all members of the band: “ESP happens in this band. It’s a solid physical fact. We are not separate. If love is there, anything is possible.”
Sources:
Power, Passion & Beauty: The Story of the Legendary Mahavishnu Orchestra, by Walter Kolosky