Invisible Hits is a column in which Tyler Wilcox scours the internet for the best—and strangest—bootlegs, rarities, outtakes, and live clips.
You could devote your entire life to exploring Sun Ra’s galaxy of music, art, and writing and never reach an end. During his 79 years on this particular planet, the interstellar bandleader was a perpetual motion machine of creativity, releasing countless records, touring constantly, and penning works of Afrofuturist poetry and philosophy. Ra’s universe is still expanding, more than a quarter-century after he left this earthly plane; there’s a seemingly never-ending flow of releases and rediscoveries, and the Sun Ra Arkestra, still an ongoing concern under the direction of saxophonist Marshall Allen, will release its first album since 1999 this month.
The sheer magnitude of Sun Ra’s output can be daunting. But the truth is, there’s no right or wrong way to begin—just put on your spacesuit and blast off (John Szwed’s recently reissued Space Is the Place biography will provide an excellent map for your travels on the spaceways). But don’t just stick to the records. Sun Ra was nothing if not a multimedia artist who understood the power of a spectacle.
Arkestra concerts were immersive affairs, involving wild, handmade costumes, films, light shows, choreography and more. Over the decades, a few filmmakers tried to document these disorienting, ecstatic and often-indescribable performances. Judging from eyewitness accounts, it’s likely none of them got even close to capturing the real thing. But here are a few of the most successful attempts.
The Cry of Jazz (1959)
By the time Sun Ra and his Arkestra showed up in Chicago DJ Ed Bland’s documentary The Cry of Jazz, Ra was already a fixture on the Windy City’s fertile jazz scene. Bland’s black-and-white, half-hour film mixes real footage of Black life and (hilariously stilted) fictionalized discussions of the meaning and import of jazz. It’s definitely a dated document, but one with its heart in the right place. The Cry of Jazz is most notable these days for its early glimpse of the Arkestra, who provide most of the soundtrack and appear at several points throughout. They aren’t playing the jazz from outer space we’d come to expect later on. The Arkestra, looking dapper in tuxedos, is at their most straight-ahead here. Ra was a shapeshifter, able to delve deep into the avant-garde at one gig, and then indulge in convincing throwbacks to the Big Band era at another.
The Magic Sun (1968)
In the early 1960s, Sun Ra moved the Arkestra to New York City, where they lived a communal existence, blending art and life until one was indistinguishable from the other. The Arkestra played as much as possible, mostly in tiny clubs like Slug’s Saloon in the East Village, where they scored a long-running residency on Monday nights. But occasionally, they’d move into NYC’s bigger, more distinguished spaces—even, in April 1968, the hallowed Carnegie Hall. For that show, Ra joined forces with minimalist composer/experimental filmmaker Phil Niblock to create imagery of the Arkestra that would be projected behind the group. Entitled The Magic Sun and set to some of Ra’s most “out” music, the resulting film is haunting and strange—but perhaps one of the most accurate representations of the live Arkestra experience we’ve got.
French Television (1969)
Ra and his Arkestra may have been playing Carnegie Hall, but—as was often the case for American jazz musicians—they were better appreciated across the pond. This short documentary for French television is a fascinating look at the collective shortly after they left NYC for Philadelphia, moving into a rowhouse in the city’s Germantown neighborhood. Here, we see a large ensemble (resplendent in their full stage uniforms) crammed into a tiny living room, rehearsing merrily, acting more like a family than a band. From behind his bank of electric keyboards, Ra plays the part of the patriarch, leading the group musically, but also delivering thoughtful, surprisingly practical lectures. He had a reputation for the cosmic, but he could come down to earth, too. “You want a better world, put the blueprint down,” he once said. “I’ll make it for you.”
Jazz Session (1972)
With interest growing in Europe, it was only a matter of time before Ra took the Arkestra on tour there. As shown in this French clip from early 1972, he spared no expense, bringing more than a dozen elaborately costumed musicians, plus dancers, to the continent. Dense polyrhythms, blasting brass, ecstatic dancing—this is the Arkestra at its most theatrical and powerful, sound and vision that fuses the ancient to the futuristic. This footage is black-and-white; the vibe is positively technicolor. (For more of Sun Ra’s early escapades abroad, check out this “home movie” compilation shot as he and the group explored the Egyptian pyramids and ruins in Sardinia. They look right at home.)
Space Is the Place (1974)
In 1972, Sun Ra teamed up with writer Joshua Smith and director John Coney to make Space Is the Place, a full-length feature film that was eventually released in 1974. Low-budget though it may be, it remains an ambitious blend of Afrofuturist sci-fi, Bergman-esque symbolism, funky Blaxploitation, and, well… Sun Ra. Space Is the Place shows Ra landing his spacecraft in Oakland to do spiritual battle with the Overseer, a demonic entity whose power is drawn from the degradation of Black people. It’s definitely a flawed film; the effects are cheap even by B-movie standards, and the sex scenes feel particularly cringey today (Ra apparently agreed, removing them from some later versions of the film). But its protagonist manages to float above any shortcomings, his gnomic presence always captivating—especially in an extended, intense call-and response duet with Arkestra vocalist June Tyson.
A Joyful Noise (1980)
Documentary filmmaker Robert Mugge gained remarkable access to Sun Ra and the Arkestra in the late 1970s, and his resulting A Joyful Noise is perhaps the most intimate and revealing portrait ever made of the group. The hour-long doc gives us plenty of the cosmic: beautiful Arkestra performances on the roof of the Philadelphia International Center, and Ra intoning enigmatic wisdom amongst Egyptian antiquities at the University of Pennsylvania’s anthropology museum. But we also get a behind-the-scenes look at Ra’s Germantown home, plainspoken conversations with Arkestra members like the great John Gilmore, and even an inspiring sequence about a Sun Ra-themed neighborhood grocery store called The Pharaoh’s Den. All in all, A Joyful Noise is a must-watch for anyone interested in the otherworldly world of Sun Ra. (It’s also available to stream in hi-def on Amazon Prime.)
The Sun Ra All Stars in Berlin (1983)
Though he sometimes played with smaller ensembles and occasionally performed solo, Sun Ra generally preferred the expanded palette of the Arkestra. Even then, his big band wasn’t always big enough. In 1983, he recruited some of the biggest names in free jazz for a tour of Europe, deliciously dubbing the group the Sun Ra All Stars. In this Berlin show, we get to see Archie Shepp, Don Cherry, Lester Bowie, and others attempt to merge their singular styles with the Arkestra’s. Even bebop drummer Philly Joe Jones, best known for his 1950s work with Miles Davis, gets into the spirit. Unsurprisingly, the music made here often verges on the chaotic. But as a conductor, Ra manages to hold it all together through sheer force of will, stalking the stage imperiously, coaxing magical, unearthly sounds from his players.
Night Music (1989)
While Sun Ra and the Arkestra could sell out large theaters in Europe—they even toured the Soviet Union to much acclaim in the late 1980s—success in the U.S. still proved elusive. But the mainstream occasionally came calling. In 1989, Ra appeared on the wildly eclectic Night Music program, bringing a quarter-hour of pure Arkestral jazz to network television (and stick around to the end, when none other than Al Green joins in on “Space Is The Place”). “You’re in the space age now,” Ra sang as he was beamed into living rooms across the nation. “The space age is here to stay.” More than 30 years later, with his music still finding new audiences and inspiring young musicians, it seems like he was right.
