Language involves more than words, spoken or written, acted
out or signaled; it defines however information is transmitted. Language is the
vehicle for codifying communication processes that lead to a greater purpose. Humans do it. Animals do it.
Plants do it. All living beings do it.
Alto sax player and composer Darius Jones is no stranger to
how to shape language. From his very first quasi-autobiographical recording, Man’ish Boy, he has bridged the gap
between the real and the imagined and literally made them indistinguishable. It
is in the fourth recording that relates directly to the three before it, Oversoul
Manual, that Jones is realizing the
dream originating with the instrumental Man’ish
Boy (AUMFidelity, 2010), continuing with Big Gurl (AUMFidelity, 2011) and Book of Mae’Bul (AUMFidelity, 2012).
Oversoul Manual (AUMFidelity,
2014) is a step beyond the pure musical adaptation of Jones’ story. It is the magical
celebration of the ancient language of Jones’ invention, ɶʃ,
“…an empathic language by the Or’genian people.” That celebration conveys the
guts of his story. Jones’ creativity envelops an entire culture of love, women,
boys, compassion and identification with Universal Truths. For without the
latter, how else can the purity of souls be known or even alluded to. Jones,
himself, egolessly constructs the epicenter of the culture which penetrates the
ether, the netherworld, the alien world, the earth world.
A group of four women, Sarah Martin, Jean Carla Rodea,
Amirtha Kidambi, and Kristin Slipp constitute “The Elizabeth-Caroline Unit.”
This “spiritual unit,” as Jones describes it, vocalizes a cappella fifteen
verses of ritualistic beauty whose force is directed towards the creation of a
child. The music ushers in a process of birthing that happens within Jones’
world, the one that is the implosion of the real and the imagined into one.
The texture of the vocalization manifests an epitome of harmonics;
high and low pitch balance; broken and uninterrupted vibrations; open and
closed tones; and singular and unison lines. No verse is translatable, only
symbolic. The language is syllabic. No dictionary comes with the recording,
because it does not matter. This glorious,
evocative, albeit mysterious continuum of sound projects an enlivening, audibly
sensuous, often trance-like roadway to somewhere that is essentially nowhere,
which exists exclusively in the heart.
copyright 2014 Lyn Horton
Personnel:
Sarah Martin,
voice; Jean Carla Rodea, voice; Amirtha Kidambi,voice; Kristin Slipp, voice.
Cover Art:
Copyright 2014 Randal Wilcox
