Coming half a decade after the Ornette Coleman Free Jazz (1960) disc, it’s somewhat confusing that Coltrane’s Ascension (1965) is generally thought of as the true beginning of the sub-genre. Having been working to this furious disc over his previous few recording dates, Coltrane sees fit to surround himself with pretty much the top tier of the new thing at this point. His accomplices include Pharoah Sanders, Freddie Hubbard, Archie Shepp, Marion Brown as well as the storied Coltrane rhythm section.

Originally, the track “Ascension” was recorded in two separate editions. The first take being the one initially released on the Impulse! LP. But due to Coltrane’s distaste for that version, it was quickly switched in subsequent pressings of the disc. Of course, the CD pressings make both versions of the song available.

Regardless, though, Coltrane utilized a definite skeletal outline to figure when solos began and ended, which seems to contradict the notion of free jazz. It really doesn’t though, considering that the sax player tutored no one on what angle to take while playing. Each player functions with a different level of comfort, though – Freddie Hubbard at times sounding as if he’s at a loss and Marion Brown, for a while, riffs on a bop figure.

It is interesting to contrast the soloing of Coltrane and his (sorta) protégé Pharaoh Sanders, who sounds dissimilar to the elder player. The leaders solo, first up of course, isn’t melodically traditional and while there certainly hints at Coltrane disregarding anything but his guttural directions, some of the playing is modal. By contrast, Sanders works more with timbre as he coaxes sounds from his horn that others are only able to imagine. Being so different, though, each statement not only serves as some sort of free jazz thesis for each player, it helps to broaden the already immense territory these players sought to work in.

Again comparing Ascension to Coleman’s Free Jazz, one finds that the latter recording sports two more players. And oddly enough – to me at least – the group on Coleman’s date is able to sound more full at times. This perception, though, can mostly be attributed to the differing approach to soloing on each date. Where Coltrane used a basic scaffolding to denote when one solo began and ended, Coleman didn’t work in that mold at all. Instead, his two quartets simultaneously improvised.

That approach isn’t necessarily better or worse, but it certainly produced a different result. In group improvisation, it would be possible for Coleman to hear some expression from Dolphy, Hubbard (who appears on both dates) or Don Cherry, respond to it and create some wholly new direction. The way in which Coltrane worked seemed to isolate players. As each individual was given the spotlight, he needed to create spontaneously, in a vacuum, a few minutes of playing that tangentially worked with the greater composition.

Disregarding any actual outcome to the comparison of these two efforts, both serve as the foundation for a much maligned approach to jazz. But an approach that, even now, finds its proponents in an ever deepening devotion.