Music Arcades: Albert Ayler: Holy Ghost

I was wondering when this was going to come up, and, frankly, I could have done with a bit more time to absorb it. I've had it nearly two and a half years, but still have a long way to go before I can say I've done it justice. I'm actually further through the hardback book than I am through the ten music and interview CDs.

Then of course, there are all the other inserts. The box reminds me most of John Cage's Rolywholyover box, which I've had for ten or more years. In both cases the box somehow defies being put away in a cupboard. It seems to demand being put on show. Yet in both cases the contents comprise a seemingly random accretion of notes and artefacts: a crumpled photograph of Albert aged 12 with his first sax, a scribbled note on hotel writing paper, a CD in a cover mimicking and old tape reel with just two tracks of Ayler recorded when he was part of a US Army band, a real pressed flower! It's like finding the box in the attic that someone just chucked their everyday memorabilia into.

You see, I'm doing what a lot of people did when writing about this collection; I'm writing about the package. There are two reasons for that. One is that the packaging is easier to describe than the music — more on that in a moment. The other is that it truly is a remarkable package (everything that the Residents' boxed set wasn't, and five pounds cheaper)! Let's face it: the idea of buying just some rare Ayler recordings and interviews would have caught the attention of just a tiny hard core of fans while leaving billions to ignore it with impunity. But somehow the fractured glimpses of a life and a journey are able to lead people like me, people who normally find Ayler pretty scary, into the music and to persist with it. (OK, I haven't persisted much in the last 29 months, but I will, I will.)

There are times when music should be left to stand on its own, and when artists should be left shrouded in mystery. This isn't one of them — though of course from this distance (chronological, cultural, racial, spiritual) no amount of explaining can fully take away from the enigma of Ayler's life and death.

The only writers who you can really trust to write about this kind of music are those at The Wire, and I think they went to town on this collection. It gets first mention at the top of their list of the best of 2004, and they even include excerpts from some of the interviews on their website.

The music on the first CD is almost accessible, but it gets wilder, stranger and harder quite quickly even by the end of that first disc. I understand the '65/'66 stuff is considered the breakthrough material on which Ayler's reputation has grown. I've already mentioned how Lucy refers to this music. It's a term which, if you close your eyes and reflect on it, can be uncannily plausible: "fire-in-a-petshop music".