Alice Coltrane – Ptah, the El Daoud (Impulse, 1970)

Alice Coltrane (p, harp); Joe Henderson (ts, alto fl); Pharoah Sanders (ts, alto fl, bells); Ron Carter (b); Ben Riley (d)

Recorded on January 26, 1970

Alice Coltrane (née McLeod) married John Coltrane in 1965.  One year later, when pianist McCoy Tyner chose to leave John Coltrane's epochal quartet, Alice Coltrane replaced him in the band.  After John Coltrane's passing in July 1967, Alice continued making music on the label that her husband had done so much to establish, Impulse. One can only imagine how difficult it must have been to live the psychological burden of "replacing" these two giants.  Talk about tough acts to follow!

Not surprisingly, Alice's first two records after her husband's death did not feature horns.  Instead, they were trio records that focused on her piano and harp playing.  It was only on her third album, Ptah, the El Daoud, that Alice chose to make music that more closely approximated her husband's.  Perhaps, with the passing of time, she was ready to confront and find her place in John Coltrane's vast and imposing musical legacy.  Notably, Alice chose not just one but two saxophonists: Pharoah Sanders and Joe Henderson.

It's also worth mentioning that Alice Coltrane never made an album like Ptah, the El Daoud again.  The album isn't representative in her discography.  Instead, it's a way station on her journey towards an increasingly cosmic, orchestral canvas that featured string arrangements, cascading harps, and South Asian musical elements.  You can hear the full expression of those ideas on albums like Journey in Satchidananda (Impulse, 1970), Universal Consciousness (Impulse, 1971), and World Galaxy (Impulse, 1972).

Relative to those albums, Ptah, the El Daoud is earthy, directly rooted in the sacred aspects of the African-American blues tradition.  The album's imagery and titles may be otherworldly and strange—but the music hearkens back to her husband's music circa Crescent and A Love Supreme.  Like those albums, one can easily hear a surging, urgent quest for spiritual truth and renewal in Ptah, the El Daoud.

I would like to make special mention of the final cut on the album, "Mantra."  Featuring Alice’s superb piano throughout, this comes closest to a traditional blues forms of any music on the record.  People who knew her have remarked how much Alice loved to hear her husband play the blues.  (Of course, she was an outstanding blues musician herself.)  However, John Coltrane's music eventually launched into spheres beyond the blues.  He even recorded a work signaling this transition, titling it "The Last Blues."  I like to think of Alice’s "Mantra" as a valedictory work that is in many ways comparable to John’s "The Last Blues."  When I listen to "Mantra," I hear Alice grappling with the legacy of her husband, an acknowledgment of his legacy and a lament for his passing.  But this music isn't just about John; it's much more than that.  The music has the paradoxical sense of finality & eternity and struggle & peace with which all profound spiritual music grapples.  It’s so quiet and so grand.  It’s almost overwhelming.  And it can’t be a coincidence that the other musicians fall away and Alice becomes a soloist, the focus of the music as it comes to an end.  I think “Mantra” is Alice Coltrane’s artistic reckoning, the realization of another paradox: a sunset and a sunrise.  It’s as if Alice has turned to face us all and she is saying, "This is the end of something.  Something different must be next."