Codona

And the perils of definition (Fusion? World music? Spiritual jazz?)

Despite not really considering myself a “fan,” I surprised myself recently when I tallied up all the Don Cherry albums I’ve heard. The list includes all of his work with Ornette Coleman, of course, plus all the various bootlegs of his time with Sonny Rollins, and multiple solo releases: Eternal Rhythm (easily my favorite), Symphony for Improvisers, Where is Brooklyn?, the two volumes of Mu, Organic Music Society, The Summer House Sessions, and several others. (I wrote about his collaborations with Swedish saxophonist Bernt Rosengren for The Wire’s September 2023 issue, which contained a special 18-page section on Cherry.)

Anyway, I wrote about Old and New Dreams — Cherry’s quartet with saxophonist Dewey Redman, bassist Charlie Haden, and drummer Ed Blackwell — back in July (link), and a reader, HP, commented that I should write about Codona next. I’d never heard Codona, so I thought, Challenge accepted. And now, here we are.

Codona was a trio made up of American sitar player and percussionist Collin Walcott, Don Cherry, and Brazilian multi-instrumentalist Nana Vasconcelos. As you’ve probably figured out, the group name is the combination of the first two letters of each of their first names. They released three studio albums for ECM, simply called Codona, Codona 2, and Codona 3, between 1979 and 1983.

Walcott had a pretty interesting career all on his own. He studied sitar under Ravi Shankar, and played on Miles Davis’s On the Corner; at the same time that he was in Codona, he was also a member of the “world music”/jazz group Oregon. And Vasconcelos was some kind of shaman/wizard, a Brazilian percussionist capable of putting listeners into a trance entirely on his own. Last year, I reviewed a reissue of Vasconcelos’ incredible 1973 album Africadeus, almost entirely performed on the berimbau, a Brazilian instrument consisting of a one-stringed bow attached to a resonating gourd. If you’ve never heard Africadeus, fix that ASAP; the opening title track is nearly 20 minutes long, and absolutely hypnotic.

Anyway, Codona begins with a gong strike, which tells you right away what kind of album it’s going to be. Before long, the 11-minute “Like That of Sky” is rolling out a carpet of sitar, berimbau, tabla, and flute, followed by muted trumpet. In the background, Tibetan-style grumbling vocals can just barely be heard. There are too many things going on at once for it to be a live performance — the music was obviously layered and overdubbed, and the way the instruments from different parts of the world, and different musical traditions, are combined creates the feeling of an invented ritual for some kind of unity-minded new spiritual community.

Four of the six tracks on Codona are credited to Walcott, but each member makes his voice heard; “Mumakata” in particular feels like a showcase for Vasconcelos’ particular genius. The title piece is a collective composition. And then there’s “Colemanwonder,” a short but fun medley of two Ornette Coleman compositions, “Race Face” and “Sortie,” and Stevie Wonder’s “Sir Duke.” Credit is beside the point anyway. This album is a weird miracle, because who would ever have predicted that these three musicians would ever meet, let alone find enough musical common ground to make a record together, never mind three? It’s one of those things for which the only explanation is, “Hey, man, it was the Seventies.”

Codona 2, recorded in May 1980 and released the following year, feels just slightly more polished than its predecessor, utilizing the potential of the studio in more obvious ways. The two-minute “Godumaduma” bounces instruments back and forth across the stereo field as a simple melody loops over and over, a cross between minimalist classical and the techno to come. “Malinye” is a harmonica-driven diasporic blues, anchored/accented by portentous timpani, that eventually becomes a cacophony like people howling in a thunderstorm. There’s another Ornette Coleman piece, “Drip-Dry,” but his usual leaping melodies are absent; it’s an abstract interlude that the group turns into Codona music. Walcott’s “Walking On Eggs” sounds much more Ornette-ish.

The final Codona album, Codona 3, was recorded in September 1982 and released in 1983. The back cover photo gives a hint as to the changes afoot; Cherry, standing in between Walcott and Vasconcelos on a sunlit German balcony, is wearing a suit and tie. The experimentation of the debut has hardened into a style — Codona are now a proven and reliable quantity with successful tours and festival appearances to their name. The formerly unorthodox instrumental combinations (sitar, berimbau, and trumpet? surely not!) are now expected. And admittedly, tunes like “Travel By Night” have real beauty, Cherry playing in an almost Miles Davis-ian style as Walcott and Vasconcelos lay down a mesmerizing groove. The most interesting tracks are “Trayra Boia,” on which their voices are looped and collaged so that short phrases become a mesmerizing Babel, and the closing “Inner Organs,” which introduces organ to the mix and sounds remarkably like early Tangerine Dream (think Alpha Centauri or Zeit).

Codona played a jazz festival in Willisau, Switzerland in 1979 before they had even assumed their collective identity — the show was billed under their individual names. That hour-long performance, which includes versions of tracks from their first two albums and some exclusive pieces, has circulated for years, and was released this year on a bootleg double LP. It’s pretty good, and there are other live performances on YouTube, but the three studio albums are really all anyone needs.

The group was brought to an end in 1984, when Walcott died in a bus crash while on tour with Oregon. And that’s tragic, even if I think Codona said everything they had to say in three albums.

Those albums were gathered into a 3CD box and reissued in 2008, by the way. You can still find copies on Discogs and other places, if you look. They’re also on streaming services.

Many people refer to what Codona did as “world music”, but I don’t know if I agree. I would probably call their work fusion, while specifying that I don’t mean the loud, electric instrumental prog with extended solos that the word “fusion” conjures in most people’s minds. What I mean by it is simply the combining of disparate elements and styles into a new thing that retains individual and identifiable characteristics of those elements and styles, while somehow transmuting into a holistic and coherent new thing. Anyway, I’m really glad reader HP recommended Codona. I think if you listen to them, you’ll be glad you did, too.

That’s it for now. On Friday, I’m going to ask you to buy some records. See you then!