The late '60s was known for lots of things, including an openness to musical experimentation and an easy acceptance of spiritual flakiness. Free jazz icon Albert Ayler had a voracious appetite for both. From his early musical parallels to Ornette Coleman (in form) and John Coltrane (in texture), he evolved into a completely unique musical entity, that of the metaphysical maestro of twisted marching band skronk.

Though his music could be as "out there" as any of his New Thing contemporaries, Ayler felt a profound need to connect with those outside of the dry academic audience. He sought to make improvised, atonal music acceptable to the masses by placing familiar, childlike themes based on European folk songs in between the bouts of relentless, gloves- off blowing. Eventually, his need to get his message of spiritual unity to the people caused him to shear the most interesting edges from his music, and many of those dubious rock/ soul misfires remain out of print. But for a time-- the peak of which is captured on the reissued Live In Greenwich Village-- the lonely Ayler toiled in an odd music of his own invention, with stunningly beautiful results.

Choosing the right instrumental setting was always a problem for Ayler; early recordings featured a misplaced piano, later experiments oddly incorporated harpsichord. For the Greenwich Village dates, Ayler chose to work with strings (violin, cello, bass), drums, and his brother Donald on trumpet. The line-up is brilliant for combining the European thematic elements with the noise assaults of the solos, giving the music the flavor of the foreign avant- garde while fully retaining its accessibility.

The most profound synthesis of noise and melody comes with Ayler's signature "Truth Is Marching In." The piece takes its time building from the wailing funeral dirge of the opening to the furious atonal improvisations that close the track. Everyone solos eventually, even the strings; surely Stradivarius could never have pictured the instrument played like this. Equally impressive is the lovely "Spirits Rejoice," which borrows from "Au Tannenbaum" and another folk song that I can't quite place, with Ayler twisting each borrowed melody into his own. The solo passages here are even more intense, as if Ayler's screaming at heaven through his horn.

Indeed, the pastoral vibe is in full effect throughout Live in Greenwich Village, as the titles ("Divine Peacemaker," "Light In Darkness," "Infinite Spirit") make clear. If Ayler's attempts to bring the world together in some kind of communal ecstasy sound like the ravings of a madman, keep in mind that three years after this recording his body was found floating in the East River, a likely suicide. Whether he was inspired to scale such heights in his music through true- blue divine inspiration or insanity, even a lifelong atheist like myself has to admit that this astonishing album gets me in the praying mood.

-Mark Richard-San