Executive Overview
In the landscape of post-war avant-garde jazz, few instrumentalists pursued a path as uncompromising, rigorous, and singular as soprano saxophonist Steve Lacy. While the saxophone is traditionally celebrated within the warm communal embrace of a horn section or rhythm-driven combo, Lacy spent decades investigating the stark, exposed territory of the unaccompanied horn.
Among the monumental artifacts of this lifelong journey, his 1975 concert at the former church of San Francesco in Como, Italy—initially issued by the Italian independent label Red Records as Axieme Vol. 1 and Axieme Vol. 2—occupies a legendary status among connoisseurs of improvised music.
Now, with a newly remastered CD release that officially unveils the precise titles of the pieces performed that autumn evening, the recording demands a fresh critical evaluation. The original sleeve notes pointedly explained the axiome plus ensemble. To the casual observer, applying the concept of an "ensemble" to a solitary man holding a single soprano saxophone seemed paradoxical. Yet, this paradox dissolves entirely upon understanding the architectural and acoustic reality of the venue.
Organized by the Autunno Musicale di Como—a prestigious festival founded in 1967 by Italo Gómez and Gisella Belgeri—Lacy’s performance took place within a deconsecrated medieval church that the city had only recently converted into an exhibition space. With no percussionist, no bassist, and no harmonic accompaniment on stage, the soaring stone nave, high vaulted ceilings, and natural reverberation of San Francesco became Lacy’s true accompaniment. The building itself answered every breath, micro-tone, and phrase, transforming a solo recital into a deeply collaborative dialogue between artist and architecture.
This comprehensive retrospective explores the historical context of Lacy’s European exile, the mechanics of his solo methodology, the significance of the newly clarified tracklists—including a rare instrumental rendering of his seminal Tao suite—and the enduring legacy of a recording that even its creator privately acknowledged as exceptional.
Detailed Chronology: From Rome to the Aisles of San Francesco
To understand the resonance of the Como concert, one must trace the geographic and artistic trajectory that brought Steve Lacy to Italy in the mid-1970s. By the late 1960s, Lacy had already solidified his reputation as a master of Thelonious Monk’s dense, angular compositions, working alongside figures like Roswell Rudd in the pioneering Jazz Composers Guild. However, seeking a climate more receptive to his uncompromising aesthetic and experimental leanings, Lacy relocated to Rome in 1968.
The late-sixties and early-seventies Italian cultural scene proved to be a fertile incubator for avant-garde musicians. Independent labels were burgeoning across the country, eager to document the transatlantic innovators who found Europe a more hospitable home for creative music than a commercialized American market. During his tenure in Rome—and following his subsequent move to Paris in 1970—Lacy became a darling of progressive Italian imprints. Labels such as Black Saint, Cramps, Ictus, and Red Records regularly captured his evolving sonic explorations.
The year 1972 marked a major turning point in Lacy’s artistic output: he committed himself seriously to the daunting challenge of the unaccompanied solo concert, beginning with a landmark appearance in Avignon. Throughout the mid-1970s, solo recordings began to pile up, buoyed by a celebrated run of performances and sessions in Japan. Yet, it was his detour to Como in 1975 that would yield one of the most hypnotic documents of this period.
On that autumn evening, Lacy stepped into the cavernous, newly restored expanse of San Francesco. The historical weight of the venue—a sacred space repurposed for secular and artistic contemplation—mirrored Lacy’s own musical philosophy, which treated improvised and composed sound with monastic devotion. Red Records initially issued the Como performance in 1977 as a double-LP set, splitting the concert across Axieme Vol. 1 and Axieme Vol. 2. In keeping with the minimalist, conceptual bent of the era, the four original sides carried no specific titles beyond the overarching album moniker, forcing listeners to engage with the music purely on its sonic merits without programmatic signposts.
A single-disc CD iteration followed in 1993, but the latest remastered edition finally restores the true identities of the compositions, offering modern listeners a historically transparent window into how Lacy constructed his legendary solo repertoire.
Supporting Context & Metrics: Deconstructing the Solo Methodology
The newly structured tracklist of the remastered Axieme release is far more than a clerical update; it illuminates the intricate architecture of Lacy’s mind. Unlike many free-jazz improvisers who relied entirely on spontaneous invention from a blank slate, Lacy constructed his solo concerts around a bedrock of precise, recurring compositions. These tunes served as home bases—melodic anchors to which he would venture out before returning, lending his avant-garde excursions an undeniable structural logic.
The program at San Francesco bridges different eras of Lacy’s compositional life, blending seasoned repertoire with fresh innovations:
- "The New Duck": A staple of Lacy’s solo book that had remained a constant companion since his inaugural unaccompanied performances in Avignon three years prior.
- "The Crust": Originally serving as the title track for his acclaimed 1973 quintet record—which featured heavyweights Steve Potts, Derek Bailey, Kent Carter, and John Stevens—here the composition is brilliantly pared down to a single, unaccompanied melodic line. Stripped of its original avant-garde rhythm section, the tune reveals its skeletal, angular beauty.
- "Deadline" and "Coastline": Fresh additions to his catalog in 1975, these pieces were so vital to his working repertoire that they were captured again on the album Stabs before the calendar year had even run out.
Acoustic Engineering and Spatial Dynamics
One of the most remarkable technical aspects of the Como recording is Lacy’s physical interaction with the room’s acoustics. Because the church possessed a long, natural decay, Lacy utilized distance as an active compositional tool. Throughout the performance, he constantly drifted toward and away from the microphone’s pickup range.
When he played close to the mic, every breath, reed vibration, and tactile key-click was captured with intimate clarity. When he stepped back, his notes dissolved into the vast stone nave, allowing the building’s natural reverb to answer each melodic phrase in its own time. This spatial choreography effectively turned the architecture into a secondary wind player, whispering ghosts of previous notes back to the listener while Lacy initiated the next phrase.
Official Statements and Archival Discoveries: The Tao Suite Unveiled
The undisputed crown jewel of the Como concert is the performance of the Tao suite, which occupies two central tracks on the remastered disc. Lacy had long been fascinated by Eastern philosophy, specifically the timeless wisdom of the Tao Te Ching. He famously set six chapters of Witter Bynner’s poetic English translation to music, creating a conceptual cycle that would echo through his artistic output for decades.
In subsequent years, Lacy would record this suite with his celebrated quintet—most notably on the album The Way, where each movement was assigned a specific hour of the day and a dedication to a jazz titan. For instance, "Existence" was dedicated to John Coltrane at dawn, while "Life On Its Way" honored Duke Ellington at night, featuring the ethereal wordless vocals of Lacy’s lifelong partner and collaborator, Irene Aebi.
However, the Como performance represents what is widely believed to be the earliest complete recording of the Tao suite in existence—with a crucial distinction: it is performed entirely without a singer.
Stripped of Aebi’s vocal interpretations, the melodies of the Tao suite reveal an astonishing structural resilience. Without human words to guide the narrative, the abstract contours of Lacy’s soprano lines take center stage. The church’s extensive acoustic decay fills the exact sonic space that a voice would normally occupy, creating an eerie, meditative atmosphere where silence and sound share equal weight. It is an exercise in pure, contemplative reductionism.
The Artist’s Own Assessment
The historical record of this concert is cemented by a modest, telling artifact preserved from the original LP’s release. The back cover of the 1977 Red Records double-LP carried a brief, handwritten note from Lacy himself. Dated October 1977, the note thanked an unidentified correspondent for sending a cassette, concluding with a characteristically understated validation:
"I agree with you that the music is very good."
Nearly fifty years later, that concise verdict rings with absolute truth. In an era saturated with hyper-processed, over-produced audio, the raw vulnerability of Lacy standing alone in a medieval church feels more vital and refreshing than ever.
Future Outlook: The Enduring Relevance of Lacy’s Solitude
As contemporary improvised music continues to grapple with the tension between digital excess and acoustic authenticity, the reissue and reappraisal of Steve Lacy’s Axieme sessions serve as a vital masterclass. Lacy passed away in 2004, but his pedagogical influence and recorded legacy continue to cast a long shadow over generations of horn players, from modern jazz experimentalists to contemporary classical performers.
The meticulous remastering of the Como concert opens up several avenues for future archival excavation. Jazz historians and independent labels are increasingly recognizing that the mid-1970s European touring circuit produced some of the most daring, uncompromised art of the 20th century. By properly contextualizing these recordings—moving beyond anonymous side titles to reveal the rigorous compositional frameworks beneath—modern curators are honoring the intellectual depth of artists like Lacy.
Ultimately, the Como recording is not merely a historical relic for jazz purists; it is a masterclass in spatial awareness, discipline, and emotional depth. It demonstrates that when a master improviser is given the space—both literally and figuratively—to let his art breathe, a single soprano saxophone can genuinely sound like an entire ensemble. Nearly half a century after those notes first echoed off the stone walls of San Francesco, Steve Lacy’s solitary voice continues to guide listeners along the inexhaustible path of the Tao.
