Lost In Eternity

THIS HANDSOME four-disc set would look classy on the stuffiest of record shelves--I keep mine next to my Concert for Bangladesh, the bright orange sets off the rich navy nicely. The producers have thoughtfully included a slick album of color photos from the concert. The back cover contains a tasteful reproduction of Picasso's Three Musicians.

Unfortunately, these promotional details are the most interesting things about this epic live recording. Columbia has packaged these records as an event, a happening of lasting musical significance, but the music represented here does not justify their extravagance. Chick Corea and company pulled out all the stops for their Spring 1977 tour of North America--they even carted along a full brass section and a concert grand piano--and their Boston appearance was sensational. But as so often happens, this performance lost much of its magic in the translation to vinyl.

Music takes a back seat not only in the packaging of this release but also on the discs themselves. The album cover promises "The Complete Concert," and that is precisely what it delivers. That means minutes--yes, minutes--of applause on these records. Return to Forever was a tenpiece outfit on this gig, and on record the individual band members are introduced, with applause, often with testimonials of delight, not once but again and again. All this non-music presumably reinforces the spontaneous, "live" element of the performance--but the decision to include it in this finished product is puzzling, since the concert was marred by an especially rude and uncooperative audience. Unaccompanied solos are punctuated with cries of "Boogie!" and "Get down;" the performers were repeatedly forced to wait for the audience to relax so they could continue playing. The album does capture some of the uniqueness of RTF live--the Rach-maninoff fanfares and showtunes that Corea improvises as incidental music--but there is enough garbage noise to make the entire project vaguely irritating.

THE MUSIC. Ah yes, well, there is music on this album, some of it very good, for those willing to wade through all the extraneous hype. Chick Corea (and RTF is Corea's band) always plays well; the success or failure of his records usually depends on the musicians he chooses and the selections he plays. The results here are uneven. Versions of flashy but vapid tunes from Musicmagic (1977) comprise the first two discs. The band is tight, but the intricate mini-fugues and pompous fanfares that highlight the horns still sound gratuitous. The vocal sections are disappointing; Chick's voice lines are difficult, and Gayle Moran has the training but not the panache to sing them convincingly (where O where is Flora Purim?). Bassist Stanley Clarke cannot sing well--and on this date he sounds like he has both a head cold and a bad case of stage fright. The banal lyrics don't help matters.

Corea continually rearranged the group's charts during the tour, and in spots they bear the stamp of an impressive musical imagination. In the middle of Clarke's "Hello Again," Chick has the bass leap into a swinging stride figure, then covers a couple of choruses in classic cabaret-style piano. The moment is totally unexpected, and it inspires an otherwise weak composition. The big-band funk of "Musicmagic" becomes a vehicle for extended solo exchanges--Corea duels with Clarke's hard rocking bass, Joe Farrell's jazzy reed lines, and workhorse Gerry Brown's polyrhythmic drums.

The next three sides highlight individual performances. Gayle Moran's rendition of "Come Rain or Come Shine" falls flat--she should know enough to stay away from such a gutsy jazz singer's standard. Serenade features Joe Farrell's tenor sax, an undersung quantity if there ever was one. Stanley Clarke performs a lengthy acoustic bass solo that is more a technical coup than a creative improvisation. His sheer enthusiasm makes the cut listenable despite serious intonation problems. Corea begins the show's finale with a 17 minute piano solo. His playing is so damned interesting that he very nearly carries off this whole venture by himself, and here, on his own, he imaginatively probes his Spanish roots and builds to the concert's climax.

Corea segues into the opening chords of his "Spanish Fantasy" suite, easily the best ensemble piece on the album. The horns really cook, belying their earlier sterile proficiency. Clarke's electric bass works beautifully, and Corea is literally all over the place--playing synthesizer, playing piano, stamping his feet with excitement. Appropriately, the encore is a Corea-Clarke duet; the chemistry between the two is obvious as they perform a free improvisation that is loosely based on the bop standard "On Green Dolphin Street."

The music on this set could have been refined down to a splendid two-disc album. Instead, RTF is relying on its reputation to sell this expensive piece of self-indulgence, and one is forced to wonder about the motives of all involved.